


Beyond Redemption

by chibi_nightowl



Series: Casebook of Detective Timothy Drake [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Detective!Tim, Explicit Language, Gen, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to find the fucker who did this to a 12 year old boy, Hood. Whoever can do this to a kid needs to be off the streets. I don’t care if you’re the one who catches him, but I will be damned if I don’t use all the resources I have available to me."</p><p>The Red Hood nodded slowly, absorbing his words. “You do know that if I find this asshole, I'm gonna kill him.”</p><p>Tim stood up straight and walked a few steps forward until he was close enough he could to touch Jason if he wanted to. He looked up at him. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I called you and not Batman.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd try my hand at a chapter story instead of one-shots. Tim as an actual police detective has always been a favorite AU of mine. And Jason? Well, let's just say he's not the only one with a mouth on him.

Chapter 1

The night air was heavy with the scent of rain and trash in the alley. Decrepit apartment buildings with rusted fire escapes framed what could be seen of the cloudy sky. Next to an overflowing dumpster was the body of a young boy, propped up against the metal frame. If one didn’t know better, he looked like he was asleep.

Detective Tim Drake knew better. He crouched down to take a closer look at the body in front of him.

The boy was no older than 13. He had been savagely beaten; his arms and face a mangled mess from where he had tried to protect himself. The deathblow appeared to be on the back of his head where his skull was crushed. There was very little blood around him, which lead Tim to believe he had been killed elsewhere and his body arranged here.

The main question was why?

“Whoever did this wanted him to be found,” Tim muttered. He looked over his shoulder to his partner, Gannon Malloy. The man was a good cop; a transfer from Bludhaven after the city became a wasteland from when Chemo was dropped several years back during the crisis. “CSU done yet?”

“For the moment,” Malloy replied. “We can move him, Rookie.”

Tim grimaced. Malloy was the senior detective, so he loved making him do the dirty work. Tim had just made detective barely three months before, the youngest on the force, though he had been a beat cop since he turned 18.

Right now, he’d give anything to be handing out traffic tickets again.

Tim made sure his gloves were on and carefully pulled the boy forward, revealing his back.

The sound of gagging came from behind him. “Oh my god,” someone said.

The boy’s back had been whipped, practically flayed open down to the bone. His shirt, what remained of it, was in strips from the neck all the way down to the base of his spine. With the lights from the camera flash over his shoulder, he could see the white of bone.

Tim reeled back, bile rising in the back of his throat as he gasped the stagnant air of the alley. He didn’t even notice when he sat right in puddle.

He decided to revise his main question. Why was no longer important. Who went right to the top of his list.

“Who could do this to a kid?” he asked, hands shaking as he stared at the boy. “Why?”

“Those are very good questions, Rookie,” said Malloy as he helped Tim stand; he looked a little pale himself. “We’re going to find to whoever did this and put them away for a very long time.”

Tim took a deep breath, the warm, rank air clearing his head. “Let’s do this,” he said.

*****

The boy’s name was Tyler Carter, age 12. He had a juvenile record for petty robbery going back to when he was eight and caught trying to pickpocket people during a Fourth of July parade.

Tim sighed, closing the file. He knew they started young in New Town where it bordered up against Crime Alley, but this was a real eye-opener. Tyler’s parents were dead, his father from a drug overdose and his mother was beaten to death by a john a few years back when she was hooking, either for rent or drug money, the file didn’t say. The kid was placed in foster care, but was in and out of juvie regularly.

“He wasn’t a particularly good thief, was he?” Malloy commented, having moved on to the preliminary forensics report they just received from the medical examiner. It would be another couple days for the full report.

“No,” replied Tim. “Considering how often he was caught, you’d think he would try something else…” he trailed off. “Perhaps he did.”

“Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“Well, think about it,” Tim said as he leaned back in his chair, hands waving in front of him as he thought out loud. He was always being teased for talking with his hands, but it helped him think. “Failed pickpocket, failed thief, the kid couldn’t do anything but run. There’s a note here from one of the arresting officers that the kid could book it. Now what kind of work could a kid with a good set of legs get?”

“Drug running, in this case, perhaps literally,” said Malloy, taking a sip from his latte. He hated the office coffee and would always stop by Starbucks on his way into the precinct each afternoon. Sometimes he would bring Tim one, knowing his partner would drink whatever caffeinated beverage was placed in front of him.

“So Tyler is running messages or drugs for whom? And what happened that made someone angry enough to whip the kid to the bone, then beat him to death?” asked Tim. “Was he carrying something important and lose it?”

“This is New Town, I can think of at least three possible drug dealers right off the top of my head, but this doesn't match any of their MOs. This is something else. You said earlier that you thought the kid was left as a message. A message to who?”

“To whom,” corrected Tim idly, thoughts elsewhere.

“Grammar Nazi,” retorted Malloy. “A message to whom?”

“Perhaps someone who’s got a soft spot for kids?” Tim said slowly, but his mind was racing. He knew of exactly one person in the drug trade who had made it pretty clear where his thoughts were on dealing to children.

Luckily Malloy didn’t take the bait. For a moment, he was glad. “So the kid’s a failed runner? Who was he running for? Did he lose something? What did he have on him that was so important that he was tortured to death?”

Tim shook his head, still thinking, still staring at the report in front of him. A kid’s entire life in one thin police file. “Is the ME running a tox screening?”

“Yeah, but it’ll be at least two weeks before we get that back. Why?”

“Random thought,” Tim said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the kid comes back positive for whatever he was carrying.”

“Pump the kid full of whatever shit was on him, then flay him wide open while he’s high?” Malloy asked incredulously, face showing the horror he felt at the thought.

“I said it was a random thought,” replied Tim defensively.

“That’s a morbid thought, Rookie, but I bet you’re right. It’s just the icing on the cake.”

“I would love to not be right."

“I’ll run this by the captain in the morning, see if we can’t get the tox screen back faster.” Malloy stood. “You gonna hit the pavement?”

The blonde detective knew his background as a street cop. Tim had a knack for getting people to talk to him, to trust him, despite the uniform he wore. As a detective, Tim in street clothes took this to a whole new level. He had quite the intelligence network established.

He hedged. “It’s already 3am, none of my irregulars are going to be out. Those that are are going to be too messed up to get anything useful from.”

“Fair enough. Turn off that computer you call a brain and get some rest. We’ll have plenty to do tomorrow.” Malloy slapped Tim across the shoulders as he walked away. “I better not hear you were here all night!”

“I’m moving!”

Tim sighed as he got tucked the file and his laptop into his messenger bag. There was one person in all of Gotham who had made it pretty clear where his stance was on the use of kids and drugs. “Drug dealing garbage,” he murmured, recalling words spoken to him in the past.

He sighed deeply, knowing what he needed to do and not liking it in the slightest. But, at least to him, this was a message and a rather pointed one at that. It was time to call the Red Hood.

****

Tim walked out of the station, pulling out his phone and grimacing over the fact that he lied to his partner. He liked Malloy, he really did, especially considering that the man was Dick Grayson’s partner for a time when he lived in Bludhaven and worked as a police officer. Malloy had even met Nightwing a few times, according to his stories. “That man has the best ass I’ve ever seen,” he’d said with a big grin.

Too bad he'd never made the connection his former partner and Nightwing were the same person.

Tim had figured out the identity of Nightwing years ago when he was still Robin and wearing those scaly green short-pants. That led to figuring out who Batman was. And the second Robin.

Jason Todd.

Dealing with Jason was never easy, even though his vendetta against the Bats seemed to have settled down to an uneasy peace over the last couple years. Tim had first encountered the Red Hood when he as a beat cop, fresh out of the academy. He’d caught a man trying to deal to some teenagers. The man ran off before Tim could catch him (damn his bruised ribs from the fall he'd taken after slipping on a patch of ice while chasing a different perp a few nights before), but he’d had a talk with the kids the man was trying to sell to.

Tim looked young and knew it, often using it to his advantage in situations like this. He could talk to kids that were just a handful of years younger than him. He’d hoped the discussion would help, as well as the card he’d given each of them for the newest youth center in the area (funded by the Wayne Foundation of course).

After the kids walked off, an unexpected voice came from above. “You know, you’re the first cop I’ve ever seen actually talk on the level with these kids." Tim looked up, startled.

Leaning on a rusted fire escape one story up was the Red Hood. He was wearing his helmet that night, as well as a bulky leather jacket that concealed all kinds of nasty surprises.

When Dick had told him that Jason was somehow alive again, Tim was shocked. He’d followed Batman and Robin for so long, but most of his pictures were of Robin. Of Jason. He’d mourned him when he heard of his death, never once believing the official story Bruce had put out. Later, he’d learned the truth.

Of course, when he learned that Jason was back, Dick had also given him a warning. To stay away from the Red Hood at all costs. Tim was not ashamed to admit he’d had a bit of a childhood crush on Robin, on both of them, but Jason had always been special to him. It had been hard to reconcile the boy with the man he was now.

Tim swallowed. As a cop, he knew he should pull out his service revolver and at least make an attempt at catching the murderous Red Hood. But he had also been trained in deductive reasoning and logic by the Batman for a short period of time and knew that he didn’t have a chance in hell of going up against the Hood and coming out on top.

“Well...” he paused to wet his lips work some moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth. “I’d rather have caught the guy trying to sell them ecstasy, but with three bruised ribs I’m not moving too fast right now.” He really hoped he wasn’t asked how that happened. It was embarrassing enough that it even happened.

The Red Hood just stared at him. At least, Tim thought he was staring, it was hard to tell with the helmet. He continued, “In school, I knew kids just like these guys. They just need something else, something positive in their lives to stop them from going down the wrong path. If I can help, great. If not, then, well, I tried,” he finished, rather lamely he thought as he stared right back at his former childhood idol.

If he was going to be shot, he’d rather it be with his head held high.

“An idealistic cop in a world full of drug dealing garbage,” Hood said with a small shake of his head. His voice was a muffled by the helmet, but Tim thought it held a hint of disbelief. “I knew an idealistic cop once. He was an idiot who thought everyone could be saved.” The voice sharpened. “What do you think?”

Knowing who the Red Hood was referring to didn’t help one bit. Tim smiled sadly. “I’d love to think everyone can be saved, but I’m a realist. I can help those who cross my path and _want_ to be helped, but there are some out there who are beyond redemption.”

“Not so idealistic after all,” said Hood. “What’s your name, officer?” He shifted slightly on the fire escape, revealing a holstered gun strapped to his thigh.

Tim swallowed again, still making no move to pull his own gun. “Drake. Tim Drake.”

“Really now?” The surprise was clearly evident even through the helmet. “Photography still a hobby of yours?”

This time Tim took a step back, startled. “How did you know?”

The Red Hood knew who he was. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Red Hood was a major player in town; somehow, him knowing the name of a newly minted police officer, let alone one of his hobbies, didn’t sit well.

“A big bird told me,” was all he said. He pulled a grapple gun out of his pocket and fired upwards. “Later, stalker,” he said as he disappeared up onto the roof of the building.

Big bird. It had to be Dick. Tim decided then and there that his revenge would be epic. He wondered if Damian would be interested in pictures of Discowing...

When Tim made it home to the townhouse he still shared with his dad and stepmother a few hours later, he found his bedroom window open and a knife embedded in the frame with a note.

It was a phone number and a message. “For when you find someone beyond redemption.”

*****

It was interesting the difference a few years made. Tim rarely had an open encounter the Red Hood, but he had a feeling he was being watched on more than one occasion. Whether it was the Hood or one of the Bats, he never knew. Batman had turned Tim down flat when he came to him at the tender age of 13 to say that Batman needed a Robin. He'd sworn he would never tell another soul what he figured out, but apparently that promise hadn’t worked in a reciprocal manner. And Damian did make good use of the pictures.

This was the first time Tim used the phone number Jason gave him. He wasn’t even sure it would still work.

The call connected with the beep of a voicemail. “Leave a message,” was all it said, but the voice was distinctly familiar and unmuffled.

Another beep.

Tim took a deep breath and spoke, “This is Tim Drake. I need to speak with you about someone beyond redemption.” He gave his cell number and hung up.

He’d either get a call back or he wouldn’t. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d say to the Red Hood but at least now he had more time to think about it.

For now, it was time to hit the pavement and try to trace Tyler Carter’s last days.

*****

The next afternoon, Malloy and Tim decided to split up. Tim, despite being 23 years old and still looking no older than an 18 year old who could barely shave, was going to talk to some of the older kids who ran the streets around where Tyler had been found. Malloy was hitting the phones, trying to get an idea from Social Services where the kid had been staying the last couple of months.

Tim much rather preferred his job, even though this meant being out in the cold rain. Gotham weather never ceased to surprise him. The warm night before had given away to a cold and very wet evening. April always had weird weather.

He parked his car in what he knew was a neutral territory for the two main gangs in New Town. He shucked his jacket and ditched his dress shirt and tie, leaving his undershirt and adding a faded, but warm, Gotham Knights hoodie to his jeans and sneakers. The people he was looking to speak with knew he was a cop, but it helped that he didn’t loudly advertise the fact. He made sure his gun, taser, and badge were all hooked to his belt and got out of the car, pulling up his hood to try and get some protection from the rain. 

The detective worked the neighborhood for a few hours, the sky slowly growing darker and darker as afternoon progressed into evening. He was surprised by the lack of information he was getting. The people here _knew_ him. They knew they could talk to him (he never thought for a second they _trusted_ him; that was asking too much) without fear of repercussion, but each time Tim mentioned Tyler's name or showed the kid's picture, nothing. No reaction. It was like this kid had been a nobody despite very obviously having gained _someone's_ attention.

It soon progressed into full night. Tim returned to the street where he parked, starting to feel a bit desperate. He needed information.

In spite of the inclement weather, the street still had some people out and about, moving from streetlight to streetlight. There were two bars on this block, along with the usual dry cleaner, cheap nail salon, and a convenience store. It was really the diner on the corner though that made this a neutral zone. It was a hidden gem in the border between a bad part of town and an even worse part of town. Personally, Tim loved their waffles.

Just before he turned the corner by the diner, he stepped into an alley. About a halfway down lived a homeless man by the name of Teddy who often gave Tim information about current events on the local streets in exchange for a good meal or enough money for booze from one of the bars. Depended on his mood.

Tim was hoping the man would be huddled under his makeshift shift shelter to ride out the storm, but no such luck. Part of him was glad he didn’t see Teddy there, but the other part of him was pissed that one of his best sources of information wasn’t where he needed him to be. This just seemed to be his luck tonight and it pissed him off.

“Dammit,” Tim muttered as he turned around, shoving his hands even further into the pockets of his now soaked hoodie. 

“Temper, temper, Detective Stalker,” said a distinctive muffled voice from above.

Tim jerked to a halt, slipping in a puddle and almost losing his balance as his arms flailed out and steadied himself against a wall. He looked up.

The Red Hood was leaning over the fire escape looking down at him from one story up. “Gee, this seems familiar."

The detective glared at the man. “What is it with vigilantes and heights?” he asked sarcastically. Not that he had an issue with heights; he'd chased perps up any number of fire escapes to beat them to the top, waiting for them with his gun pulled. Learning free running and parkour with Dick had been a childhood dream come true. “How did you find me? And how did you know I’m a detective now?”

“The better to look down at you from on high,” replied Hood, with what had to be a smirk. “You aren’t that hard to track.” He jumped over the rail and landed gracefully. Tim hadn’t been this close to him since before his death and it suddenly dawned on him how much taller Jason had grown. He was almost as physically imposing as Bruce. “As for the last part, let’s just say I pay attention.”

Tim leaned back against the alley wall and crossed his arms. Dealing with the Red Hood could go any number of ways, but it sounded like he was in a good mood tonight. He wasn’t sure what he thought about the vigilante paying attention to him (or what he did to warrant it), but it did explain the feeling of being watched at odd times.

Hood stood there a moment, just looking at Tim. “So,” he said. “You never call, you never write. What’s got you so desperate for my brand of help?”

Tim blinked. Malloy had managed to convince their captain that certain details about Tyler’s murder be kept out of the news (not that the murder of a street rat was headline news in Gotham, not even page six), but this was a surprise. He expected the man to at least have heard about the murder, close as it was to his territory a few streets over. Sometimes, street signs didn't mean all that much this close to Crime Alley.

He sighed. “A kid was murdered last night. Whipped to the point his back was flayed open and beaten across the head until his skull caved in.” Tim continued, laying out the details and his suspicions about why Tyler was murdered.

Hood remained quiet throughout the entire story.

“I was hoping to get some information tonight about Tyler, who he is and who he was running with before this happened. He was found just a couple blocks over so here is a good place to start.” Tim paused, choosing his next words carefully. He's had a lot of time to think this afternoon as he pounded the pavement. None of it was pretty, but there was one thing he consciously decided on. It made him slightly sick to his stomach knowing he was about to say, knowing what Jason would very likely do. “I want to find the fucker who did this to a 12 year old boy, Hood. Whoever can do this to a kid needs to be off the streets. I don’t care if you’re the one who catches him, but I will be damned if I don’t use all the resources I have available to me. This person needs to be gone.”

The Red Hood nodded slowly, absorbing Tim's words. “You do know that if I find this asshole, I'm gonna kill him.”

Tim stood up straight and walked a few steps forward until he was close enough he could to touch Jason if he wanted to. He looked up at him. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I called you and not Batman.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Common, it's not like they're PG-13 here. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hours later, Tim walked into his apartment, dripping water like a wet dog. He’d been pounding the pavement all night, circling out once again from the alley where he’d met with the Red Hood as night fell, bringing with it a new cast of characters for him to talk to. The skies at last released their full fury as he made his way back to his car, soaking him to the bone.

It had been worth it. He found a group of kids a couple streets over from the neutral zone willing to talk to him. They confirmed Tyler was a runner for the Snakes, a relatively new gang in Gotham that was just starting to dabble in drugs and prostitution. Tim didn't know much about them as they hadn't made an inroad in New Town yet.

The kids said they hadn’t seen Tyler for at least three or four days. Tim’s heart sunk when he heard the news.

Slipping off his sodden sneakers, he fumbled for the light switch. Nothing happened.

Tim flipped it again for good measure, but he was quickly becoming aware that he wasn’t alone in his living room. He reached for his gun.

A convenient flash of lightning revealed Batman standing in the middle of the room.

“Goddamn it Bruce, you don’t need to pull your _I am the night_ deal with me,” Tim said crossly as he put his gun away. “What are you doing here?”

It was a rhetorical question, he was pretty sure he knew exactly why the Batman was in his apartment. This was the first time he's seen Bruce since he made detective. Their paths didn't cross all that often, of which, Tim was glad for. He had a job to do, unglamorous that it was. Tights didn't fit into the picture anymore (not that they ever did for him).

“Tyler Carter,” said Batman. “What did you find tonight?”

“That he’s been out of sight for about four days,” Tim replied. He pulled his sooked hoodie over his head and flung it in the general direction of his kitchen where it landed with a wet _splorsh_ on his tile. His laundry unit was just next to his pantry. “I also learned he was running with the Snakes.”

Batman didn’t say anything, but that wasn’t unusual. He and Tim would sometimes share information when Bruce had a case in New Town after Tim had become a cop. It had been a surprise at first, the world’s greatest detective coming to him, a lowly beat cop with a new assignment in one of the less well off areas of Gotham. He never said, but Tim suspected it was his way of keeping an eye on him and testing him at the same time.

He wondered how he was doing. Not that he needed Bruce's approval or validation, but words of praise from the man were rare and cherished by anyone who ever lived in Wayne Manor. 

“You have anything you’re willing to share or do I need to wait for the bastard to show up down at the precinct tied up all nice and pretty with a flash drive taped to his forehead?” Tim asked sarcastically. Being afraid of mouthing off to Batman had worn off pretty quick when he'd become his temporary ward after his mom died in Haiti and his dad was hospitalized in a coma for months.

“Just suspicions, which I believe you share. Do you need anything from me?” This was rare, Batman asking if he could help instead of taking over a case. Tim couldn't help but be slightly suspicious, but at the same time, there were things he could get done much faster than him. 

“A rush on the toxicology report would be great.” He'd figure out how to explain it to Malloy later.

“I’ll stop by the morgue to get a blood sample. I’ll forward you the results in a day or two.”

Tim snorted in disbelief; this was a rare treat. He wondered what the catch was. There was always a catch. “Thanks. What do you know about the Snakes?”

Batman was quiet a moment. “Their leader is a former member of the Ghost Dragons.”

“Ghost Dragons," he echoed incredulously. "But they’ve been gone for years. The Triads control Chinatown. Why the hell are they expanding into New Town? It’s all the way across the city.”

“This former member was rather heavily influenced by King Snake.”

Tim shuddered. He’d captured some photos of Batman and King Snake fighting when the blind man had first come to Gotham in an attempt to take over the drug trade from the mafia. It had been just a few months after Bruce had turned him away for telling him he needed a Robin.

The fight was brutal to say the least. Sir Edmund Dorrance left Gotham, but his Ghost Dragons stayed behind, absorbed into different gangs run by the vicious Chinese triads.

“You willing to share a name?”

Batman turned to go. Apparently his largesse only went so far. Or that Tim was about to jump into something way over his head. But this was his job, just as much as Bruce made it his. “Bruce, you know I’m going to find out this guy’s name sooner or later so you may as well save me the time.”

The dark knight reached for the window.

“Oracle likes me better than you. I know how to use words like _Please_ and _Thank you_.”

A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning later, Batman was gone.

Tim stalked over to his still open window. “You’d think he’d have the courtesy to close the damn thing,” he muttered, pulling the window shut and closing his blinds.

The next roll of thunder brought with it the return of the power to his apartment, the light from all his lamps and overhead lights suddenly blinding him. Tim sighed and fumbled for his phone as he started turning them off.

A familiar voice answered on the third ring. “I take it you didn’t like the light show?”

“I’m more curious as to whether he turned on every light in my place first, and then had you cut the power or if that was all your doing.”

Barbara laughed. “The world will never know. You won’t let me put surveillance cameras in.”

“If I were running around in tights every night, I would,” replied Tim with a grin. “But since I’m just a lowly detective, my personal measures will have to do.”

“Yes, personal measures that are still way beyond what any normal person would have.” He could tell the all-knowing Oracle was grinning.

“What can I say, I learned paranoia from the worst and hacking from the best.”

That got him another bright laugh. “Flattery will get you no where, nerd wonder.” Barbara’s tone changed suddenly. “So how can I help with the Carter murder? I assume that’s why you called.”

Tim quickly sobered as well. “Yeah. B was just here being all cryptic as usual. I told him Tyler was running for the Snakes and he mentioned that they’ve got some connections to the Ghost Dragons. Said their leader is a former Dragon, then wouldn’t say another word. I’m guessing he’s off to pay them a visit right now, but since I don’t even have a name, I can’t chase after him.”

“How typical of him. I’ve got a name for you, but I really don’t think you should be running after this person without backup.”

“I’ll call Malloy. That’s why I have a partner.”

“Not that kind of backup. This person is a former Ghost Dragon. That means they, as well as their top enforcers, are at least moderately skilled at martial arts and street fighting. Last I checked, you’ve just gotten a black belt in aikido.”

“If I’m going into the Snake’s den without telling Malloy, he’s going to kill me.” Tim paused, thinking it over. His partner wasn't bad at basic hand-to-hand fighting, but Babs had a point. If there was a fight, he'd be down fast. “Even if I go with your backup, he's still going to kill me. So I'm screwed anyway I look at it. Who's free tonight?”

“I’m debating sending two people to meet you,” Barbara replied blithely. Tim could hear the sound of her typing over the line.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Of everyone Tim had ever worked with, he knew Barbara wouldn’t mess with him over something this important. She was also a cop’s daughter and understood how important it was that he get the information he needed to solve this case rather than have the arrest go to Batman. He was willing to use what Batman would give him, but it wasn’t like he could list him as a source.

He ran a hand through his wet hair and went in search of dry clothes. “Talk about walking into the lion's den. Where am I going?”

“I’ll text you the address. Your partners for the night will meet you there.”

“Thank you for your help, Babs. What’s the name of the guy I’m going to see?” 

“Real name unknown. _Her_ street-name is Lynx.”

*****

Tim parked his car a few streets over from the Bowery address Oracle provided him. The night was still cold, but the rain had stopped for the moment. Small favor.

He peered outside, but knew there was no chance he’d see his temporary partners unless they wanted to be seen. Tim idly wondered if Bruce had been through here yet and if he was just wasting his time. He shook his head. The information came from Babs and he knew she wouldn’t send him on a wild goose chase.

Where was Batman though? It would be just like him to drop a clue in Tim’s lap and have him do the legwork while he checked out another angle. But he wouldn’t put Tim in danger, would he? Oracle had sent him two members of the Batfamily for this after all.

It was this kind of thinking that made Tim a great detective, but also gave him migraines.

He checked his gear. Gun, taser, badge, the knife he’d never admit to keeping on his person at all times, bullet proof vest, and his cell phone. The audio recorder app was already up and ready for him to hit play at any moment. He pocketed his keys and got out of the car. Immediately, the smell of rain, the smell of the night, washed over him. Tim knew it was weird, but he loved this smell. It was Gotham. It was home.

Tim walked down the empty street, hoodie up and pretending to keep his head down. Half the streetlights were out, creating small islands of light he carefully avoided. It was quiet, but it was also what he expected for the late hour. Under normal circumstances, he'd be asleep right now, which was saying a lot. The GCPD was constantly understaffed and overworked. Sure, he was scheduled for an eight hour evening shift, but 60-hour work weeks were not uncommon for him. All too common, really. 

He was almost to the street Oracle directed him to when he was quietly hailed from the alley he was passing. “Drake.”

Tim smoothly turned into the alley like that had been his intention all along. A few steps in, he saw Damian crouched on top of a closed dumpster. “Robin,” he said. “Not running with the big guy tonight?”

Robin scowled, his default setting for the most part. “He informed me I was to have nothing to do with this murder investigation and proceeded to shuffle me off on some useless errand in the Financial District.”

Tim shook his head. “Typical reaction from him when there’s a kid involved,” he said mildly.

“Agreed, but I’m not as defenseless as the weaklings from the streets,” replied Robin as he stood up. “Nightwing is already casing the building. Come.” He shot his grapple line towards the roof and extended his hand.

Tim sighed. Always with the roof entrances. He took Robin’s hand and let himself be hauled up into the night. He’d lived with Bruce for the better part of a year while his dad recovered and learned how to use a grapple gun, but he was a cop and in Gotham, a grapple gun screamed of vigilantes. 

He followed Robin across the rooftops, running and jumping as needed, moving almost as silently as the grumpy teenager. Robin glanced over at him once as he almost fumbled a landing from a larger than expected gap and smirked. “You need to spend more time training than shoving donuts in your mouth.”

“Find me another cop in Gotham who can even do this and I’ll come to the cave everyday for a month to run your training course,” Tim huffed, not believing for a second the kid would find anyone. He hadn't been to the Batcave since the day he decided to enroll in the police academy.

Tim may never have been a Robin, but he still knew an opportunity when he saw one after Bruce took him in as his ward after his parents' botched kidnapping. He took it too, learning everything he could from the Batman, from Nightwing. Even Alfred helped him hone his thespian skills. Tim and Malloy, like any good pair of detectives, had a good cop/bad cop routine down when they were interrogating suspects, but the way Tim could slip into either role without missing a beat was downright scary.

He’d yet to be tapped for an undercover job, but he was hoping for the opportunity.

“Challenge accepted,” replied Robin. “Pennyworth will enjoy seeing you again.”

Tim accepted the subtle rebuke for what it was. He and Damian were not close, not by a long shot, but they worked well together when their paths would cross. Ironically, it helped that Tim had been an occasional babysitter to the young man. He learned very quickly that Damian wasn’t a typical child and, after Damian figured out that Tim wasn’t the threat he’d assumed him to be, they ended up bonding during a prank-war on Dick for sticking them together in the first place.

Good times.

They reached the edge of the building that faced the one Oracle directed them to and crouched down. Robin pulled out a pair of binoculars. It was a non-descript apartment building, five stories in height and just as sorry looking as the rest of the neighborhood. Tim didn’t see any gang signs from his vantage point, but he was certain they were there.

“Looks like the Snakes have the entire top floor to themselves,” said a voice from behind them.

Tim didn’t even flinch, which he thought spoke volumes about his relief in who else Babs assigned to help out tonight. The list of people who could work with Damian was pretty short. “Is Lynx there?”

Nightwing settled in next to Robin and Tim. “Yeah. She’s hard to miss based on the description Oracle provided. A woman with an eye-patch stands out.”

He nodded in agreement. “Not that many female gang leaders period. They tend to stand out.” 

“Those gangs also tend to be more organized and vicious,” added Robin.

“Agreed. So how’re we doing this, Tim?”

Tim smiled grimly. “I was thinking I’d go in the front and try diplomacy first. If that fails, you two bust in and start breaking things.”

Both Nightwing and Robin smirked savagely at the last part.

*****

Tim knocked on the door of 501A. As far as gang hideouts went, this one had very little in the way of security. He passed unchallenged up the stairs, hadn’t even seen a single person in fact. That made him nervous. The Snakes were bunkered down, but there should still have been a watch. Unless this place was so new, there hadn’t been time yet to establish a system? This seemed most likely.

And where was Batman? He couldn’t have been here yet, Nightwing would have noticed. Too many questions with no answers. Tim was getting sick of it.

No answer.

He tried again, this time saying, “This is Detective Tim Drake with the GCPD. I have some questions for Lynx about a murder investigation.”

“That stirred them up,” said Nightwing through the comm he’d given to Tim earlier. “There’s five guys in the main room with Lynx. One of them is going to the door.”

Tim heard the deadbolt unlocking, but through the slim crack the door was opened, he could see the chain (not that it would hold against a few solid kicks to the door). He could see a young Asian man with an undercut on the other side. “We don’t like the police here,” he said with an odd mix of a Chinese and Gotham accents.

“No one ever does,” said Tim, more loudly than usual as he wanted his voice to carry into the apartment. “If it helps, I don’t suspect Lynx or your gang as being the killers in this particular investigation. I just have some questions.”

“Let him in,” said another accented voice, this one distinctly feminine.

The young man scowled, but closed the door enough to undo the chain and open it further. Tim walked in, keeping his hands in plain view.

The apartment was actually a fairly decent sized one. Tim saw a kitchen off to his right, a hallway off to the left that was likely lead to a bedroom or two. The living room was wide open with a set of double doors opening onto a small balcony. The windows and the doors all had their blinds closed. Tim spared a moment to wonder how Nightwing and Robin could even see in.

Lynx was seated on a couch facing the hallway. She was a striking Asian woman of Chinese decent, but the feature that stood out most was her eye patch over her left eye. The small file Tim found on the woman before heading over said she lost the eye after displeasing King Snake.

“May I see some ID first, Detective?” she asked smoothly. Her accent was definitely not Gotham, Tim couldn't help but notice as he made a show of pulling his badge from his belt and handing it over to Undercut. Almost...French?

“Of course,” he said as he looked around. He could see three other men in the apartment, one in the kitchen, another in the hallway leading off to the bedroom, and another on the other end of the couch from Lynx. Where was the fifth?

The woman apparently was satisfied with his badge and handed it back to Undercut to give back to the detective. “You said you have some questions about a murder?”

“Yes. Tyler Carter was found in an alley last night about six blocks from here. He was a runner for the Snakes. Do you recognize the name?”

Lynx looked at Tim calmly. “Yes, the name is familiar, but I don’t know everything about the people in my…employment.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” replied Tim. “But what I do want to know is who would kill the boy so violently to send you a message. I know the Snakes are up and coming in the neighborhood, but this isn’t something the other gangs in the area would do in retaliation. They’re much more direct when something’s pissed them off.”

“You’re asking me who I think murdered Tyler?”

“Yes.”

Lynx continued to gaze steadily at Tim, but there was a distinct edge in her voice when she replied. “I can’t think of anyone I’ve made that upset at me.” She gestured to the men in the room. “When one assumes command over a group of people, yes, enemies are made and must be dealt with. The same goes when moving into a new neighborhood. It’s part of the business.”

“Is that so? Then why do you think Tyler was killed?”

“Who knows? I think he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Tim’s next question was sure to raise some eyebrows, especially with Nightwing and Robin. It was a long shot, but he needed to push. This was getting no where. “Do you know if Tyler had any connections to the Red Hood?”

That got a reaction, both in front of him and through his comm. “Timmy…” warned Nightwing as the visible Snakes shifted in agitation.

Lynx remained calm. “Everyone knows the Hood’s ban on dealing to children. Last I checked, Tyler was a kid.”

“Yet he apparently allows kids to run. Kind of hypocritical, don’t you think?” asked Tim. He heard Nightwing groan in his ear.

“Who am I to know the mind of the Red Hood?”

“Do you have any dealings with him? Besides the usual that is?” Everyone paid up to the Red Hood in this part of town. The Bowery and Crime Alley were _his_ and anyone who even so much as dabbled in the drug trade knew it. There was a certain irony to it as the man was just as apt to blow up a shipment as allow it to go through. Tim suspected it depended on his mood, though he never shared that little thought with anyone. Whenever he'd see Dick outside of the mask, he'd often rant in vexed frustration about him. Jason was part of the family, but...not. It amused Tim to see his favorite Robin still marched to the beat of his own drum.

Much like he did.

Lynx leaned forward and glared at Tim. He’d hit a sore spot. “I have as little to do with that maniac as possible.” She paused, thinking. “You think Tyler’s murder is connected to Red Hood? He won’t kill children, even those working in the trade.”

Tim hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to say, especially with Nightwing and Robin listening. “I suspect Tyler’s death is a message to him, not you.”

They were both silent for moment, the woman digesting Tim’s statement. She stood up, facing Tim squarely. He was slightly annoyed that she was almost as tall as him. “You know what this means, right?”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah. Someone’s declaring war on the Red Hood. So…any ideas who that would be?”

Lynx shook her head. “No.”

“Please, Lynx. Anything you think could help.” Tim let a note of pleading, of desperation, enter his voice. The memory of Tyler's flayed back flashed before his eyes.

Her gazed hardened. “This discussion is over, Detective. You should leave.”

“You do know something, I can see it. Tell me and I won’t take you in for further questioning.”

“Take me in? I don’t think so. Leave _now_.”

Tim saw the fifth man stand up from behind the couch and turn to face him. All the men in the room had taken a few steps towards him. He sighed and shook his head. “I really didn’t want to have to do this, but… _diplomacy has failed_.”

Lynx barely had the time to look confused when the balcony doors burst in, Nightwing making his dramatic entrance. Tim assumed a defensive stance. “Last time, Lynx. Tell me what you know.”

The black haired woman stared at Nightwing for a moment, then whirled to face Tim. “You have vigilantes to do your dirty work? Take them down!” she shouted as she ran towards Tim.

It was all he could do to protect himself from the fury of Lynx’s blows. She was no average fighter, even with her blindness, never leaving her left side open for him to take advantage of and strike back. Around him, Tim caught heard shouts and grunts and cries of pain as Nightwing and Robin, who apparently came in through the bedroom, made quick work of their opponents.

Suddenly, Lynx staggered forward, letting Tim finally land a blow that knocked her to the ground. She groaned, but didn’t get up. Tim looked up from his opponent and saw Robin. “That’s going to cost me, isn’t it?”

Robin smirked. “You have no idea.”

Tim sighed and crouched down in front of Lynx. “Last time. Who is targeting Red Hood?”

Lynx glared and tried to get up. Robin’s boot slammed into her back, knocking her back to the ground. “Answer the question,” he snarled. He’s been working on his Batman voice, Tim thought idly.

She struggled for a few more moments, then went limp with resignation.

“Black Mask.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of Independence Day and the long holiday weekend, I'm posting chapter 3! This is the last of the short chapters (do I know how to write a short chapter?), so enjoy!

Chapter 3

Tim staggered into the precinct around noon the next day. He was glad he worked the mid-shift sometimes and today was definitely one of them.

After the meeting with Lynx last night, Tim went home and thought himself into circles until he finally passed out on his sofa and caught a few hours of sleep. He’d argued with Nightwing about keeping this from Batman, at least for a day or two so that he could work this angle himself. Nightwing had finally caved, giving Tim one day before he said anything to Batman. Black Mask was a major player when he wanted to be and, while it would be good if the GCPD were able to bring him in, he felt they were seriously outgunned unless Batman stepped in.

Robin had been silent the whole time, but he often was when he felt Tim was being foolish. It gave him something to mock Tim over later.

Sitting down at his desk, he face-planted and groaned into his arms. He hurt from the fight with Lynx, more so than after one of his aikido lessons.

“Well, look who finally decided that daytime is a thing and came to join the land of the living.”

“I’m early,” growled Tim to Malloy.

“Yeah, me too. No rest for the wicked.” Malloy paused, taking a good look at his partner. “You look more wrung out than usual. Find something last night?”

Tim sat up and leaned back in his chair to look up at his partner. He hissed slightly as his back twinged. “Got into a fight with some Snakes last night.”

“What?!” exclaimed Malloy. “What the hell were you doing? Why didn’t you call me? I’m your partner, dammit!”

“I didn’t exactly have time to wait for you,” replied Tim. “But, I do have a name of who may have murdered Tyler.”

“Who?” asked Malloy. “At least something good came out of your stupidity.”

“Roman Sionis is back. Word is that he’s taking on the Red Hood. Tyler’s death was apparently the gauntlet being thrown.”

“Oh fuck,” said Malloy, pausing to think about the implications of Tim’s statement. “It sure fits his MO. But, last time Sionis was in power, he was the crime lord over all of Gotham. It was fast, it was brutal. He’s known to enjoy torturing people. But I thought he was dead?”

“It’s Gotham, no one stays dead,” Tim snarked. “I was in high school when he made his big move, the deaths of all the heads of the major crime rings and mafias made the headlines for weeks. Then Red Hood shows up and blows it all out of the water.” He didn’t say anything having known someone who’d been tortured by Black Mask before. He thought she’d died. _Stephanie_ …

“So this is revenge,” said Malloy. “If so, then we’re going to see more bodies piling up.”

“That and collateral damage. Both Hood and Black Mask like to blow things up,” replied Tim dryly.

“Well, you certainly had a more productive night that I did. Lunch is on me, you eat anything yet?”

Tim smirked. “Nope, I knew you’d be buying.”

“Smartass. Let’s take what we’ve got to the captain, then go from there.”

*****

Tim stormed out of the precinct, so mad he was seeing red, Malloy following after him. “Tim!” he shouted.

The sound of his actual name coming out of Malloy’s mouth made him come to an abrupt stop.

“Come on, settle down,” said Malloy as he placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Let’s get lunch and talk this out.”

“I’m not hungry,” growled Tim.

“Yeah you are, you toothpick. Get in the car.” Malloy led Tim to their unmarked car and shoved him in.

As Malloy drove, Tim squirmed and fidgeted in his seat, a restless energy needing to escape. “I just can’t believe the captain reassigned Tyler’s case!” he finally let escape.

“I know, Rookie. But now that freaks and masks are involved, that’s all MCU. Gordon’s standing orders,” Malloy said calmly. “Were you honestly thinking we could just walk up to Red Hood and Black Mask and ask them to not start a war?”

Tim wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing he had pretty easy access to one of the involved parties and had planned to do just that. He hedged, “I know, alright? It’s just frustrating that with all the work I…we did, someone else gets to close the case.”

“Nice try with the save there, kid, but you and I both know that you did most of the leg work here. You’re lucky the captain only gave you a reprimand for going out on your own last night without backup.”

Malloy smiled earnestly. “I know I’m not the best at pounding the streets like you are, but you got to give me some credit. I would have come if you’d called.”

Looking over at Malloy, Tim gave him a small smile. “I know.”

*****

That night, Tim arrived home to yet another blackout in his apartment. He always left the light on in his kitchen, considering how late it often was by the time he got off. He drew his gun. “I’m already in a bad mood, don’t make it worse.”

“What crawled up your ass and died, Detective Stalker?” said a slightly muffled voice from the direction of his sofa.

Tim huffed and holstered his gun. “Hood, what are you doing here?”

“I asked you first.”

Tim glared as he kicked off his shoes and walked to the kitchen. He’s momentarily surprised when the overhead light actually turns on as he flipped the switch. Apparently, Hood just turned it off for some reason. “I was removed from the Tyler Carter case today.”

“What? Why?”

He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and headed back to the living room, stopping abruptly. Red Hood was sprawled on his sofa, helmet, gloves, and boots off, but a red mask still covered his eyes. He had a crease in his face from where he’d been laying on one of the pillows on the sofa. It was a comfy sofa, Tim couldn’t blame him for taking a nap there. He spent more time sleeping there than in his own bed.

He shook his head slightly and flopped into his recliner, which was almost as comfortable as his sofa.

“SOP says any case involving freaks or masks goes downtown to MCU.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I agree, but no one at work knows that I know the masks and I prefer to keep it that way. I can’t exactly advertise I have a phone number to Red Hood and Oracle on speed dial.”

“You have Oracle on speed dial?” said Hood disbelievingly.

“Yup. She likes me better than Batman.”

“Heh, like that’s hard.” Hood shifted on the sofa, sitting up. “So who’s the freak? I’m guessing I’m the mask for once.”

“Black Mask.”

“Jesus Christ, really? I thought he was dead. Selina took him out or something awhile back.”

Tim took a sip of water. “For real. At least, that’s what I heard last night from the leader of the Snakes.”

“Lynx? Heh, bet she didn’t give that up easily.”

“Nope. Babs sent Nightwing and Robin to back me up. Wasn’t sure what kind of army she had tucked away with her. She was definitely bunking down. Has no idea where Black Mask is either.”

“Yeah, she’s new to the area. Not sure what dragged her out of Chinatown.” Jason groaned, rubbing a hand across his face. “God, can’t believe old Blackie is back. I swear, the best memory I have of that fucker is him on the other end of my scope when I shot an RPG into his office.”

“And he survived that? Man’s a damn cockroach.” Tim shook his head and sipped more water. He was amused that despite being soaked, he was very thirsty.

“No, the Joker is the cockroach,” Jason said with a growl. He was silent a moment, then continued. “So, since you’re not on the case anymore, I guess that frees up a lot of your time.” There was a question in his voice.

“Not really, there’s always someone killing someone. It’s Gotham.” Tim paused. “What are you asking, Hood?”

“I’m suggesting a team-up.”

Tim choked. “You’re kidding. Why? You barely know me.”

“Yeah, but I know you’ve got balls of steel, an actual brain, and you’re a detective. A real one. Even I know that taking on Black Mask is going to cause an uproar. I’d like to keep this quiet. In the family, you might even say,” Hood finished smoothly.

“Family? I’m hardly family. Batman burned that bridge long ago.”

“Yeah, he has a tendency to do that. But you, Detective Stalker, figured out who Batman really is long ago. And Robin. You would have been what, 10?”

“Nine actually. And it’s actually Robins, not just one.” Tim stared at Hood. “I still have a picture of you in short-pants sneaking a smoke on top of a gargoyle.”

“Heh, I totally rocked the scaly greens.”

Tim agreed whole-heartedly but wasn’t going to say that out loud. “Whatever, you still haven’t said why you really want my help,” he said crossly.

Hood looked at Tim for a moment, silent. Tim suddenly realized he was in his living room with Red Hood, almost completely unarmed. Where the fuck were his survival instincts?

The silence dragged on and Tim shifted in his chair. He was bone tired and decided he didn’t care. “You didn’t even know Black Mask was back and you don’t have the first idea of where he could be hiding and you don’t want to ask B or O for help. You also, for whatever reason, seem to think a newly minted detective in the GCPD can.”

“Not you, but your network. I’ve watched you for years now, stalker. You have an information network of people that almost rivals Oracle’s. Yeah, I can beat the shit out of everyone to get what I want, but that leaves a trail. Blackie’ll be watching for it. I want to get in, kill the fucker, and get out.” Hood trailed off, waiting to see how Tim reacted.

“Now who’s the stalker?” Tim asked sarcastically, taking a moment to stretch. He’d been watching him for _years_? And just what was his beef with Black Mask? Hood appeared to be taking this rather personally, tortured and murdered kid aside. “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll help you. But this’ll be on my terms. I don’t need the Red Hood hovering over my shoulder scaring my irregulars.”

“Your what?” asked Hood, curiosity plain in his voice.

“Ever hear of a show called _Elementary_?”

“Nope.”

“Might want to check it out, hone your detective skills. The irregulars are what Sherlock calls his information network, though he also uses them for particular skill sets that he lacks. I just use mine for information,” explained Tim.

“Nerd,” replied Hood. “Fine, I won’t scare your _irregulars_. I will be coming with you though.”

“I’m pretty certain just the hint of your helmet being anywhere near me is going to scare the crap out of anyone I try to talk to.” Tim smirked. “You want to follow me, fine, you can come, but you’ve got to stay hidden.”

It was silent for a moment, then Hood turned so that he was facing Tim straight on. His raised a hand to his face and started to peel off the domino mask. For the first time in years, Tim looked Jason directly in the eyes.

Tim’s breath caught. He’d forgotten just how arresting Jason’s eyes were. He was far enough away all he saw was blue, but he knew there was a hint of green.

He’d also forgotten just how damn handsome Jason was. Tim swallowed, remembering just how much he’d had a crush on him when he was a kid. He’d practically lived for the social events where they were both in attendance so that he could see Jason without his Robin mask on.

“If I come like this, then I don’t need to stay hidden,” Jason said with a smirk.

Tim’s brain came back online. “If you come like that, there’s going to be a riot. How the hell are you able to even go grocery shopping without a trail of photographers following you home?” he replied sarcastically, trying to cover up that he’d been staring.

Jason’s smirk morphed into a grin. “There’s that mouth Dickiebird told me about. Don’t remember you being this snarky from before.”

Said mouth fell open in surprise. Jason _remembered_ him? “What the hell? You actually remember me?”

“Kinda. I remember a tiny kid who had to play dress up and hang out with the adults, but preferred to follow me around like a duckling. Makes sense now, since you were also following me around at night.” Jason’s smile grew wolfish. “You were such a cute little stalker.”

“And now look at me,” Tim gestured to himself, wrinkled dress shirt, tie at half mast, and crushed khakis. He was a mess and knew it. Also, what the fuck, Jason thought he’d been cute?

“Oh, I have been for a while, stalker.” There was a hint of a leer in Jason’s voice as he raked his eyes up, then down Tim’s lean frame. Tim shivered slightly. He was so screwed.

“Turnabout is fair play, I guess,” Tim said, trying to gain control over this conversation. Like he ever had it. “So, my irregulars. I’ve worked in New Town since I became a cop, so my network is best here and the surrounding boroughs. Crime Alley and Burnley for the most part, but I’ve got people all over.”

Tim sighed as he leaned back into his recliner, looking toward the window, his mind racing. It was after midnight and he was tired. “A lot of the people I’ll need to talk to are going to be out and about during the day. I was going to talk to them tomorrow anyways before the captain pulled me from this case.”

“Where’re we meeting up?”

“Do you like waffles?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I'm not a huge fan of New 52 (yay Rebirth!!), that scene in an early issue of Red Hood and the Outlaws with Jason and Tim eating waffles together just amuses the daylights out of me. Also, Elementary! If you haven't watched it yet, it's on Hulu. Go on, I'll wait. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Tim stared blankly at his coffee mug, hands wrapped around it for warmth. It was another cold morning. Two cups in and he was still feeling fuzzy around the edges. He hadn’t slept much after Jason left earlier that morning, his mind racing with thoughts about the case, but more so about Jason. 

It had been easy to ignore before, his old crush and the excitement that came when seeing Jason. The Red Hood made it easy since he was so different from the Robin he’d once been. But now, after seeing the face beneath the mask, it was becoming all too real that he was falling again and fast.

Crap. 

Tim leaned back in his booth and shut his eyes, trying to focus on the here and now. He was a detective dammit and he had a case to solve, even though it technically wasn’t his case anymore. Batman apparently knew it too since he never dropped off the promised tox screening. 

Focus. Focus. He repeated this mantra over and over with each breath, seeking the calm and clarity he so desperately needed.

Which abruptly shattered as Jason smoothly slid into the booth across from him. “Morning, Detective! Someone’s really not a morning person, is he?” 

Tim opened his eyes to glare at Jason. He looked disgustingly put together for someone who’d in all likelihood had as much sleep as he did. Tim took a sip from his coffee and said nothing.

“That’s a nice glare you got going, but you should know I’m pretty much immune,” said Jason with a grin. “So, you said the waffles here were good?”

Tim nodded. A plate was suddenly placed in front of him. Warm and full of waffley goodness. He looked up at the waitress, Ellie, smiled and dug in.

Ellie laughed as she topped off his coffee. She was a saint. Tim was going to nominate her for sainthood. “There’s hardly getting anything out of Tim here until he’s had at least three cups of coffee and is halfway through his waffles.”

Jason laughed loudly. “I’m starting to see that. I’ll have what he’s having but with orange juice, pretty lady.”

“You got it, handsome.” Ellie left with a flirtatious smile.

“So, how far are you into your caffeine intake? I saw the coffee maker in your kitchen last night, I can hardly believe this is your first cup,” Jason asked.

Tim raised his head from his plate and stared. He was sleep deprived, he could totally get away with it. He could see the green in Jason’s eyes now. 

Jason chuckled. “If I’d known you were such a fan, I’d have come calling sooner.” He leaned over and reached across the table to Tim, dragging his thumb across the corner of his mouth. “You got something there.”

He sat back down and licked the syrup off his thumb.

Tim’s brain finally decided to reboot. He was blushing, he knew it, could feel it rising across his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Could you not do that right now?”

“He speaks! Full sentence too, good job!” Jason sounded very proud of himself. 

“I got maybe two hours of sleep this morning, shut your face,” replied Tim, sarcasm and exhaustion warring in his voice.

“Yeah, I know the feeling, but apparently four hours makes me a much nicer person than you. I assume you were planning our method of attack for today?”

Tim took a bite of his waffles as Ellie came back with Jason’s orange juice. She smiled at them both and walked away. “Amongst other things.”

“Really? Like what?” Jason’s smile took on a predatory edge.

“Like hacking into the GCPD database to pull up all available information on Black Mask and calling Babs to see what she’s got. She says hi by the way.”

It was Jason’s turn to glare. “I thought we were leaving B out of this.”

“We are. But Babs is not Bruce. Besides, Dick and Damian were with me the other night when Lynx told me about Black Mask. My 24 hour moratorium on them telling Bruce expired last night.” He took another bite and continued.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s a race against time, with you and Bruce both chasing after the same prize. I told you before, I want the asshole that did this to Tyler off these streets, permanently. Bruce’s solution is only a band-aid.”

“You two really don’t see eye to eye, huh? From what Dick’s told me, it sounded like B was grooming you to become another Robin there for awhile.”

Tim chuckled darkly. “Hardly. He told me flat out he didn’t need another Robin, then barely six months later, there’s a new kid running with him, a girl this time. After my mom died, he took me in while my dad was in the hospital. Yeah, I got training, but I also got to see Bruce at his worst, especially after Bane. I decided I didn’t want to be like him, that I couldn’t hide in the dark. That’s why I enrolled in the police academy as soon as I turned 18.”

Jason was silent, just looking at Tim. He took a sip from his juice, then asked “You’re only a few years younger than me, so you would have been what, 14? That’s pretty young to be making life decisions like this.”

“True, but I’d hardly had a normal life at that point. After the quake, Dad, Dana, and I left Gotham for a while. I had a taste of what normal felt like during that year and I didn’t like it. I convinced them to come back after No-Man’s Land was lifted. I didn’t tell anyone we were back, then a week after I start school, Stephanie transfers to my high school.”

Jason grinned. “Bet that was a blast. She’s a hoot and gorgeous to look at.”

“Yeah, especially when she’s throwing a brick at your head.” Tim took another sip of his coffee.

Jason’s eyes widened in surprise. “A brick? Seriously? What the hell did you do, stalker?”

“Ask her sometime. She tells it better anyways.” He dug back into his waffles.

Jason was about to protest when a plate full of waffles was placed in front of him. “Here you go handsome,” said Ellie. “Anything else?” She topped off Tim’s coffee again.

“Nope, we’re good here,” said Jason as he started tucking into his breakfast.

“Sure thing!” said Ellie brightly. She turned to Tim. “By the way, Teddy’s back. He came in earlier for some eggs.”

Tim looked up at Ellie and smiled. “That’s great! Thanks for letting for me know.”

“You’re welcome,” she said and walked away.

Jason stared after her for a moment and looked at Tim. “She part of your _irregulars_?

“Kind of. Ellie’s observant and likes people watching. Her brother was killed in the last gang war and she works really hard to keep her daughter focused on making a life for herself through education rather than on the streets. This has been my beat for almost five years now and she knows she can trust me.” 

“I take it you tip her nicely too,” said Jason, taking a bite of his bacon.

“Of course,” Tim replied. “Good help is hard to come by.”

****

After finishing breakfast, Tim and Jason walked around back to the alley where Teddy could be found. Teddy was one of Tim’s best sources of information for goings on in the neighborhood and the surrounding boroughs. He panhandled for the most part, collecting cans and glass bottles here and there. He moved around a lot, but, for the most part, called the alley behind the diner home.

As they entered the alley, Tim said in a low tone, “Let me approach Teddy first. He startles easy.”

“Whatever, stalker,” replied Jason. He slowed his pace, hanging back a few steps as Tim continued onward.

He stopped a few paces from the cardboard shanty under a fire escape and called out. “Hey Teddy, you there? It’s Tim. Ellie said you were in this morning.” He waited a moment.

Tim heard some shuffling from the shanty and a second later Teddy crawled out. He coughed and looked blearily at Tim. “Can’t a guy catch a few winks in peace around here?” Teddy asked crossly. Tim peered at him closely, noting the red eyes and the slightly slurred speech.

“Still sleeping it off?” he asked, this time in a quieter voice.

“There isn’t no sleeping off what I saw,” replied Teddy, sitting cross-legged on the ground. “I’m glad you’re here. I got somethin’ for you, somethin’ big.” He looked up at Time, then saw Jason standing a little ways back. He startled. “Who’s that?”

Tim looked behind him and saw Jason was a lot closer than he’d been a moment before. Damn, he moved fast. “This is a friend. He’s helping me with a murder investigation.” Tim gestured for Jason to come closer. “He won’t hurt you.”

Teddy blinked owlishly at Jason as he came to stand evenly with Tim. “You Tim’s new partner or something? Keep an eye on this one, he gets into trouble a lot.”

“So I’ve noticed. I’ll try to keep him from doing anything too stupid,” Jason replied dryly. Tim glared at him for a moment, then turned his attention back to Teddy.

“Teddy, you said you had something for me. Does it have anything to do with a boy who was dumped a few blocks over the other night?”

“Naw, but I heard about that. Poor kid. Saw him running around a bit, then he was gone.” Teddy shook his head, then grimaced. His head was obviously hurting from whatever bender he’d been on. “This is worse.”

Tim grimaced and waited. Teddy always had a flair for the dramatic. 

“I saw another one, another kid dumped last night. At least, I think it was a kid… He didn’t have a face,” Teddy finished with a sob.

****

Tim stared at the body laying in front of him. 

After finishing up with Teddy (he’d given him a fifty) and getting the directions they needed, Tim and Jason found the next victim. There was no doubt in either of their minds that this was Black Mask’s work as well. The MO was the exact same as Tyler’s, though this time the skin from the boy’s face had been peeled off as well. 

Tim wanted to vomit.

The boy was just one block over from where Tyler had been found, sitting propped up against a dumpster like he was sleeping against it. Sleep was going to be hard to come by with no eyelids.

Behind him, Jason was cursing up a storm and punching the side of the building in his anger. 

“Would you stop that and shut up for a moment?” Tim said. He carefully crouched down in front of the body, taking in every detail he could without touching anything. “You’re fucking up a crime scene.”

He heard Jason punch the wall again with a loud “Motherfucking asshole!”, then silence. All protests to the contrary, Jason was Bat-trained, which meant he knew how to conduct himself at a crime scene. Tim heard Jason take a few careful steps and felt him crouching down next to him.

“Alright Detective, what’ve you got for me?” The tension in Jason’s voice belayed his now outwardly calm exterior. He was ready to snap.

“Male, Latino or Asian descent from the skin tone showing, about 12-14 years of age. Hard to tell from this angle, but his head appears to be caved in the same way Tyler’s was. There’s a significant lack of blood here, which indicates he was killed elsewhere, then dumped here, just like Teddy said.”

“That much is obvious stalker, get on with it,” Jason said with heat in his voice.

“What? It’s not like I can magically pull Black Mask’s location out my ass for you,” Tim replied just as hotly. “We’re going to have much more luck in finding him using the other information we got from Teddy about the van and the False Facers that dumped him in the first place.”

Jason sighed. “So what now?”

“Now, I call this in and lie through my fucking teeth.”

****

Tim was a good liar. He hated doing it, but it had become a particularly useful skill over the years. He was even able to lie to Batman, though he drew the line at lying to Alfred. Evasion was better when dealing with him.

“No, Detective, that was all my informant told me,” Tim said as he was being grilled by Detective Marcus Driver, MCU and one of the detectives that had taken over Tyler’s murder case.

Driver looked down at his notepad. “What I don’t get is why you’re still poking around in this case, _Detective_.” He made it clear he didn’t think much of Tim at all. “This was transferred downtown for a reason.”

“I know,” Tim replied, letting a bit of anger show. He wasn’t sure what Driver’s problem with him was or if this was just his normal attitude. “But when I get a tip about a body being found, I’m not just going to ignore it. Not my fault this kid has the same MO as the one in my _previous_ case.”

Driver looked like he wanted to say something to that, but his partner cut in. “Calm down Marcus, Drake here didn’t do anything wrong.” Detective Josie MacDonald looked at Tim. “Do you have any thoughts about who this kid is? Tyler was from this neighborhood, so it’s likely this kid is too.”

“Not at the moment, no. Kids often go missing around here, then show up a few days later, a little worse for the wear, but in one piece.” Tim looked over at the body. He felt tired, and sad, but mostly tired. This job wore on a person, all the way down to the soul.

“If you want, I can ask around, but it’ll be easier once he has a name.”

“You’re not doing anything, Drake. This is our case and…” Driver started to say before MacDonald cut him off, placing a hand on her partner’s shoulder.

“You’ll have to excuse Marcus, Detective, he’s had a rough week. Your captain put a note in the file saying you have quite the information network on these streets. When we have a name, would you mind asking around, discreetly? Marcus and I could ask questions until we’re blue in the face, but you’d learn more in a few hours compared to us.”

Tim looked back at the pair in time to see Driver give MacDonald a small smile. So they were playing good cop bad cop with him. Why they were, he wasn’t certain. “Of course,” he replied, looking at MacDonald and playing along. “I’m mid-shift at the precinct, so call me if you get anything back later today.”

“Will do, Detective, and thank you,” said MacDonald.

Driver just glared at Tim some more. Tim really didn’t have enough sleep and coffee to deal with him, so he just shook their hands and walked away.

His car was parked in front of the diner still. He walked towards it, head down and hands in his hoodie’s pockets. He almost ran right into Jason, would have too if the larger man hadn’t reached out to stop him.

“You look like shit,” he said.

“I feel like shit,” Tim replied tiredly. “This was not how I was hoping today would go.” He sighed. “I’ve got to get to work, though I’m hoping I can call it a day as soon as I walk in.”

Jason chuckled. “So much for protecting and serving or however that saying goes.” He gave Tim a once over and said, “You may want to change first, stalker. You smell like you’ve been dumpster diving.”

Tim groaned, rubbing his face as he tried holding back a yawn. “I’m gonna fall asleep in the shower, just watch.”

“Watch you shower? Didn’t know we were that far along in our relationship yet, Detective,” said Jason archly. He grinned as Tim squirmed, at a complete loss, mouth gaping. “Tell you what. Waffles and another dead kid made for a good first date, so I’ll be the gentleman here and drive you home and make sure you don’t die in your shower. Gimme your keys.” He held out his hand expectantly.

Tim didn’t say anything as he handed over the keys. He still hadn’t said anything when he sat in the passenger seat. He fell asleep before Jason even finished adjusting the driver’s seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any fans out there of Gotham Central? One of the best DC comics of the early 2000s in my opinion. I fell in love with Ed Brubaker's work and eventually found his work over at Image Comics. Crime noir all the way!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter, but I didn't want to divide it up. I doubt I'm going to see complaints about this... :)

Tim woke up slowly. This was normal, especially when he’d been overworking himself. All evidence to the contrary, he did not need three cups of coffee to wake up. He needed the coffee in order to have a coherent conversation.

There was a blanket wrapped around him. And that was his pillow beneath his head. And another pillow wrapped in his arms. He was in his bed. That was odd as the last thing Tim remembered was…

He sat up with a jolt, dropping his pillow and fighting his way out of the blanket. Jason. The second boy. Jason. 

Tim looked around, startled to find he really was in his bedroom. Looking himself over, he saw he’d been stripped down to his boxers. _What the hell?_

The door to his bedroom was open a crack, letting in a light from his living room. It was otherwise pitch dark in his room, telling him it was night. His blackout curtains were good, but not that good.

Stumbling out of bed, Tim opened the door wider and looked out across his apartment. He felt slightly disappointed when he didn’t see anyone. He made his way to the kitchen and fumbled the light on, and walked directly to the coffee maker. There was a relatively fresh pot waiting for him.

Tim stared at his coffee pot a moment before filling the conveniently placed mug and taking a sip. A few sips later and he was better able to take stock of his situation.

Breakfast with Jason. Talking to Teddy and finding the second dead boy. Jason driving him home. Tim choked as he realized that was the last thing he remembered. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, looking around the kitchen, then going to his laundry door. 

Sure enough, there were his clothes, including his shoes, stinking up the small room. Tim closed the door quickly.

His gun, badge, and his cell phone were on his small kitchen table, along with a note. Tim sat to read it, carefully placing his coffee mug next to his gun.

_Detective Stalker,_

_You passed out on the drive back. The car keys are by the front door. Your scrawny ass is just as light as I thought it looked. Eat something. Also, thanks for the sucker punch. That’s the last time I try stripping you down when you’re asleep. Set the coffee on a timer and let myself out through the window. Chasing down that other information from Teddy._

It was signed with a bold “ _J_ ”.

 _Oh my god, where did I hit him?_ Tim thought as he leaned back in the chair with a groan. He knew he flailed in his sleep, but that seemed a bit much. He reached over to look at his phone.

“Oh, shit,” he said as he took in all the missed calls and texts. Most were from Malloy, but a few were from two numbers he didn’t recognize.

It was then that he really took in what time it was. It was almost midnight. He’d slept all afternoon and evening, straight through his shift. 

Tim hit his speed dial for Malloy.

He answered on the first ring. “What the hell happened!?” Malloy shouted. “I hear you found a second boy, got the fifth degree from Central, then you just disappear! If it wasn’t for that call I got earlier from your cell from that guy, I’d have started a goddamned search party!”

“I fell asleep on my way home from the scene. I was going to shower and change…wait, what phone call?” Tim asked, finally realizing what his partner just said.

Malloy barked a laugh. “Coffee just kicking in? Some guy called about 2pm saying you’d passed out from exhaustion and that he’d put you to bed. He hung up right away, then I got a picture of you all tucked into bed. You holding out on me partner?” 

Tim growled in frustration; he could just see the smirk on Malloy’s face. “No, that was…It’s complicated.”

“Really?” The tone very much implied Malloy wasn’t buying what Tim was selling.

“He’s an informant.”

“Right. One who just so happens to know where you live and how to unlock that damn phone of yours.”

Tim pulled his phone away from his ear to look at it. Jason had to have unlocked his phone in order to send the picture. How? He’d never told him the code. He hit speaker. “Trying to figure that last part out actually.”

“You do that. In any case, Driver and MacDonald have been on my ass all evening trying to find you. I told them you have a tendency to overwork yourself and that you’d passed out somewhere. Not sure what you did to Driver, but he’s about to go ballistic on you if you don’t get back to him with something soon.” Malloy sounded grim. 

Tim knew as well as he did that pissing off MCU cops could make or break someone’s career. “Now that I’ve had about 10 hours of sleep, I’ll hit the streets tonight.” He took another sip of coffee. “Did they get a name?”

“Isaac Torres, age 13. Very similar situation to Taylor. No parents, but he does have an older brother who’s been in juvie since October. That’s all MacDonald would give me. You want some company out there?” It was pretty obvious Malloy wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Yeah, I do actually,” replied Tim, thinking quickly. Jason wouldn’t come near him as Red Hood if Malloy were with, but he needed someone watching his back with some of the areas he was going to go tonight. Besides, Hood was looking into the black van angle Teddy had also given them. “Meet me at the diner in 30.”

“You got it, Rookie.”

***

The missed phone calls and texts were from Driver and MacDonald. Driver chewing him out for not answering his phone; MacDonald giving him the same information that Malloy had passed on.

There was also one from Barbara, letting him know that she was available if he needed her help. Tim smiled at that one. In his mind, as well as hers apparently, this was still his case.

After cleaning up and showering, Tim made the quick drive to the diner. He saw Malloy inside already waiting for him. Tim wondered if he’d even been home yet. 

As he walked in, Malloy turned, holding two large cups of coffee and a paper bag. “I really shouldn’t be pumping you full of caffeine at this time of night, rookie.” He handed Tim one of the cups.

Tim inhaled the scent, opening the lid to blow lightly before taking a sip. “I know. It’s my crack.”

“No shit. At least this is a cheap addiction, though I do hate dealing with you in a withdrawal.” Malloy gestured towards the door. “Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They walked outside, the cool night air moving slightly from a breeze. The street was quiet, even more so than the other night when Tim was here. There was a predator on the prowl here. Two vicious murders in the span of a few days were creating a sense of caution not normally seen on these streets. This was going to make Tim’s job harder, but he was determined to find something.

As he and Malloy walked, he told Malloy the edited version of his meeting with Teddy. He made Jason (Jay in his story) an irregular who’d been waiting at his car when he’d come staggering up after his interview with Driver and MacDonald.

“So Jay, out of the goodness of his heart, drags your sorry ass up three flights of stairs, puts you to bed, figures out how to unlock your phone, takes a picture, then calls me? That just doesn’t compute, Rookie.” Malloy shook his head, blonde hair gleaming in the streetlights. 

Tim shrugged. “I know, but I’ve known Jay for quite a while. If it wasn’t for some of his more questionable activities, I’d want to call him a friend.” That was an understatement. Good cops didn’t go around calling vigilantes friends, especially one known to pull the trigger. But then again, good cops didn’t go calling on said vigilante for just that reason either.

“That tight, huh? Well, I’m glad someone else is watching out for you besides me.” Malloy paused as they crossed the street, moving into a darker stretch of neighborhood. “So where exactly are we going?”

“I’m trying to find a hooker.”

“Hah!” Malloy barked a laugh. “Do I need to arrest you for solicitation?”

“If by solicitation you mean asking her about Isaac, then no.” Tim gathered himself, then said, “I recognized Isaac’s name.”

Malloy looked at him in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you say so before? How?”

“I used to know his mother. When I was a beat cop, Alma Torres was a regular not too far from here. She hooked to make ends meet, to provide some kind of life for her two boys. I booked her on cocaine possession twice, though I never was certain if she was a user or a dealer. She was one of the prostitutes killed by that serial killer a couple years back.”

Tim heard a low whistle from Malloy. “That was the first big case you were involved in, wasn’t it? Rumor has it you were the one to actually find the guy, what was his name, Thomas? Instead of the detectives assigned to it…”

Tim nodded his head ruefully. “Yeah I was. I asked the captain to keep my involvement out of the news, let the point detectives take the media credit. I was only 20 at the time and I didn’t want my face plastered all over the place.”

“Tim Drake, great behind the camera, but camera shy when in front of it,” Malloy teased lightly. 

“You got it,” Tim said with one of his wry smiles. “Anyways, when Alma was murdered, I went looking for David and Isaac. That’s the older brother. They were about 13 and 10 at the time. David was already starting to run in the rougher crowds and Isaac practically worshipped his older brother, so I’m pretty certain he followed in his footsteps. 

Social Services took the two of them in, but I know they ran away after a few months. A couple of the prostitutes I’m looking for were close to their mother and kept an eye on them. I’m hoping one of them knows who Isaac was working for. David was with the 12th Street Runners, but they got wiped out and absorbed into the Burners a few months back. It’s a pretty good guess that it’s the Burners, but I want to be sure.” Tim finished as he saw a couple of women walking towards him and Malloy.

He stopped and made a gesture to Malloy to do the same. “That’s one of the gals I’m looking for,” he said. “They know me, so just hang back and keep your eyes open, okay?”

“I got your back, Rookie.”

Tim nodded and walked up to the two women. Both were wearing clothing too light for the cold night, had overdone makeup, and looked tired. Tim had yet to meet a prostitute who didn’t look exhausted.

“Tina. Chrissy.” Tim said in greeting, holding out his hand to shake both of theirs. It always made them giggle and laugh at the display of manners. Tonight, they gave tight smiles as they grasped his hand. 

“Detective Drake,” said Tina. “I was hoping I’d see you. Did you hear about Isaac?”

“I did. I was the one that found him actually. I’ve got some questions if you ladies have a few minutes.”

Chrissy smiled warmly at that. “We always have time for you, Detective,” she purred.

***

Turned out Tim’s assumption was right. Isaac was with the Burners, but he didn’t run for them in New Town anymore. He was over in Burnley, part of the main gang now. He had been in New Town though four days before, Tina explained. What he was doing, she wasn’t sure, but she’d seen him and had talked with him a bit before parting ways.

Four days. It had been four nights now since Tim and Malloy had been assigned to Taylor’s murder. 

“Could Isaac have been picked up the same night Taylor was dumped?” asked Malloy as he and Tim walked away from the two prostitutes. 

“It’s entirely possible,” answered Tim as he thought about what he’d been told. “Isaac was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he’s in a gang from Burnley.”

“He would have been wearing their colors,” said Malloy.

“Which means Black Mask could have two parts of a plan here. Plan A, pissing off Red Hood. Plan B, starting a gang war between the Burners and Snakes. But that doesn’t make sense, the Snakes are too new.”

“Any gang war tends to create chaos.”

“Which would make it easier for Black Mask to move around as the police’s attention is on trying to create order. It’s almost the same move he made last time, but instead of targeting Red Hood, he ran Batman and the police ragged.” 

“Looks like we’re heading over to Burnley then?” asked Malloy.

“Yeah, let’s go get the car. I need to call Driver too. I can’t wait to wake him up,” Tim replied with a grin that showed way too many teeth.

***

It never ceased to amaze Tim how the different boroughs of Gotham really had their own personality. It wasn’t the buildings; those were just as run down and tired looking as those in New Town. It wasn’t the people either; they were just as tired and cynical as all those in other working class neighborhoods. 

No, Tim decided, it was something uniquely Gotham. Different borough, same buildings, same people, different madman vying for control. Different vigilante keeping an eye on things.

Burnley was Batgirl’s territory. 

Each of Gotham’s vigilantes had what he liked to refer to as a “home turf”, despite Batman claiming that Gotham was _his_. Sure, they all crossed paths and teamed up when the need arose, but, for the most part, they tended to have their own territory. 

Tim wondered if Stephanie would make her presence known at all. By now, he was certain that Oracle knew where he was, Batman too. He just hoped they had enough sense to keep away while he had Malloy with him.

Explaining his complicated relationships with Batman and Batgirl were not at the top of his list of things to do tonight.

Tim drove past the building the GCPD had identified as a known Burner hideout and matched the address Tina had for Isaac. “Doesn’t look like much,” commented Malloy. “The usual signs, but I don’t see any lights on.”

“That’s odd. It’s barely 1:30, the place should have at least some activity.” Tim parked the car a few buildings down the street and got out, checking his equipment like always. Malloy did the same, shaking his trench coat and checking his shoulder holster.

“How long before Driver and MacDonald get here?”

“Driver said 30 minutes. He should be here any minute.” Tim scanned the rooftops, looking a bit closer at the shadows. He wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted to know if he had caped backup right now. Pulling out his phone, he texted Barbara.

_In Burnley. Any company I need to be aware of?_

Babs replied back a moment later.

 _You’re a step ahead of B and BG is across the street on your six. Something stinks_.

 _Nice to know I’m not the only one who thinks so_.

 _Be careful, Detective_.

 _Always_.

Tim tucked his phone away and turned to look up the street where he saw a car pulling up. It was Driver.

“Malloy. Drake.” Driver nodded to each of them as he got out of the car. “Josie’s on her way, but she lives down in Tricorner; gonna be at least another 20 before she’s here. I was able to get a warrant to search this hellhole, so we’re all set to go.”

Tim and Malloy both nodded. “It’s been quiet in there. No lights, no activity at all since we got here. Haven’t been here all that long though,” said Malloy to Driver. 

Tim took a moment to glance behind him. He saw Batgirl emerge from an alley for a moment, then duck back into the shadows. It made him feel a bit better, seeing her. Steph had always been a bright light to him and despite their issues, they always had each other’s backs.

He wondered if Jason was having any luck running down the lead on the van. It was a long shot and they both knew it.

Walking to the back of the car, Tim opened his trunk and dug out his flashlight and bulletproof vest. Malloy raised an eyebrow. “You expecting trouble?”

“We’re walking into the middle of a known gang house with suspiciously little activity.” Tim took off his hoodie and strapped the Kevlar on. “I’m feeling twitchy. Something’s not right.”

Driver gave a snort, then looked down the street at the gang house. Tim could see the wheels turning. He didn’t say anything when Driver also went to the trunk of his car and dug out his vest. 

Malloy looked troubled. “Mine’s in my car back at the precinct.”

“Then you’re in the back with the flashlights,” said Driver as he walked back and handed Malloy his light. “Let’s go.”

As they walked up the street, Tim loosened his gun in the holster at his waist. He had a full clip in the Glock and another in his pocket. He could feel his knife strapped to his leg in its thigh sheath. This was the first time as a detective that he’d served as backup on a case that might end in a shooting. He didn’t normally get to pound doors in (breaking and entering was more his style, thank you Dick), so he was a bit nervous. 

Tim took a deep breath to steady himself as Driver took lead up the front steps of the Burners house. He stepped up behind him and to the right, leaving enough space for both to move quickly if needed. Malloy flanked Driver on the left, doing the same.

The knock on the door was loud as Driver pounded his fist on it. “This is the GCPD, open up!” he said loudly. The noise echoed on the empty street. 

Driver tried again. “This is the GCPD, we have a warrant! Open up!”

Silence.

Driver grasped the doorknob and gave it a turn. The door opened inward, unlocked. The light from the streetlamps barely shone past the open doorway. The entryway was dark, the outline of a staircase showing as a faint shadow further into the room.

From over Driver’s left shoulder, Malloy shone a flashlight into the house.

The first clear thing Tim could see was what appeared to be a puddle in front of the staircase. As the light swept up the staircase, someone’s shoes appeared. The bright white sneakers were streaked with red.

“Fuck,” said Driver, taking a step inside and pulling his gun. Tim did the same as Malloy swept the flashlight across the entry hall. He was looking everywhere as fast as he could, taking it all in. 

“There’s someone else on the floor down that hallway,” he said, gesturing to the hallway to the right of the staircase. 

“That’s two,” Malloy muttered. “We’ve got to call this in and get more backup.”

Tim nodded, eyes still sweeping the darkness, listening closely to anything that could indicate they weren’t the only ones alive in this building.

Driver took a step back, forcing Malloy and Tim back onto the front stoop. He holstered his gun and pulled out his phone.

Tim did the same, shooting a text to Babs. _How many?_

He knew Batgirl had likely entered the building from the roof before they even opened the front door.

His phone buzzed a moment later.

 _13_.

***

Including the two bodies Tim, Malloy and Driver found, the total body count was 15. All shot, but a few had some knife wounds too. Tim and Malloy spent hours processing the scene with Driver and MacDonald once she arrived. The case may have been theirs now, but the sheer size and number of bodies meant every hand available was needed.

Tim was completely spent by the time he walked in his front door. But he again had company.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, chucking his keys at Jason’s head. He caught them easily, which just pissed Tim off more.

“It’s almost dawn, just wanted to make sure you were all tucked in for the day before I head home.” Jason’s grin was an attempt at being sleazy, but Tim could see the concern. “I heard it was bad.”

“Bad is an understatement,” he said, flopping into his armchair in a boneless heap. “15 bodies; 10 men and five women. Most never stood a chance. We think silencers were used, definitely some different caliber guns based on the wounds. The ME’s supposed to rush this so we can get the bullets to CSI for testing.” 

“You think it was Black Mask? Or someone else?”

Tim stared at Jason for a moment, seeing him, but not really focusing on him. “This was an execution. Most of the Burners would have had no idea what was going on. This was quick, efficient. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was you.”

Jason leaned forward at that, folding his arms across his knees, looking at Tim intently. “Do you know better?”

Tim’s gaze focused. “In this particular instance, yeah, I do.”

A crooked smile crossed Jason’s face. “I was down in Tricorner. Was able to track the van that far, but there’s a lot of places it could be hiding. Then I got a lead from an informant that lead me back up to the Bowery that didn’t pan out. I ran into Batgirl. She needed to unload a bit about her night and let drop an interesting tidbit about my favorite stalker.”

Tim managed to keep an unimpressed look on his face. “And what was that?” he asked, playing along.

Jason’s crooked smile grew into a wider grin. “That Detective Timmy looks pretty hot in his Kevlar with a gun. Wish I could have seen it.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Steph always did like a guy in uniform. You hear about her on again off again with Detective Gage?”

“Who hasn’t?” Jason laughed. He was still looking intently at Tim, though he settled back on the sofa. 

Tim shifted and stretched, watching Jason follow the movements. “So…where’d I hit you?”

Jason looked surprised for a moment. “In the shoulder. You hit surprisingly hard for someone so scrawny.”

“I’m not scrawny!” Tim denied, looking around for something else to throw at Jason. His keys were on the coffee table, just out of reach from where Jason had put them.

“You live on coffee. I saw what’s in your fridge and pantry.”

“I like sandwiches, leave me alone.”

“Right, when was the last time you had a warm meal that wasn’t take-out?”

“Um…”

The crooked smile flashed across Jason’s face again. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”

Tim scowled. “Your point?”

“Perhaps when you find Black Mask and this shit’s over and done with, I’ll cook for you. Repayment for a job well done.” 

Tim cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “You cook?”

Jason looked proud of himself. “What can I say, I’m a Renaissance man.”

“That would imply culture.”

Jason smirked. “Some of Alfred’s habits rubbed off.”

Tim shook his head, chuckling a bit. Jason really was something. What that was, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he was enjoying himself. “Like afternoon tea?”

“Don’t knock tea-time, stalker. Not my fault you work through it most days.”

“Speaking of work, I’m on call the next couple days. Apparently I’ve worked too much the last five days, even though I slept through my shift earlier, and the captain’s sick of paying me overtime for a case I’m no longer assigned to.” Tim shot an inquiring look at Jason, who grinned.

“Feel like hunting a big bad wolf?”

“I thought that’s what we were already doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done! One more chapter and an epilogue to go.


	6. Chapter 6

Tim growled in frustration at his computer screen. While he didn’t have quite the computing power of Oracle, he was no slouch. He’d long ago turned his second bedroom into his office/game room. The two 24 inch monitors created a little cave of his own, though he did spend quite a bit of his free time playing on his PlayStation and Xbox that were also in the room. The love seat he had in front of his wall-mounted TV and game systems was the match of his sofa and just as comfortable.

At this moment though, he didn’t think even Oracle would be able to help. He’d gone over his case notes, as well as Driver’s and MacDonald’s (thankfully MacDonald liked computers and typed up all her notes, as well as Driver’s; Tim had seen Driver’s handwriting, it was a miracle she’d been able to translate it to something legible), but had come up with nothing. 

The shootings last night only appeared to be peripherally related to the Black Mask case. The only link had been Isaac, who’d been known to frequent that particular Burner house. 

What was Black Mask trying to accomplish besides pissing off Red Hood and riling up different gangs?

Red Hood. Tim smacked himself in the forehead. Of course. 

Black Mask was trying to draw out Red Hood, but Jason wasn’t taking the bait. He’d been purposefully lying low and not drawing attention to himself. Jason knew this was personal and he wanted to keep it that way. Why it was so personal was still a mystery, but Tim had a feeling he wasn’t going to get very far if he started digging too hard. 

He could always call Dick, he may have an idea. But that would reveal Tim and Jason were working together and Tim really didn’t want to answer any questions about how that happened in the first place. His integrity as a detective and officer of the law was already in question for even calling Jason.

Actually, it went back further than that since he _knows_ the identities of all of Gotham’s masks and had for years. Tim growled at the thought, though it wasn’t a new one. He’d been compromised since day one by not revealing what he knew.

Focus. Now wasn’t the time for an ethical and moral debate with himself again.

Jason didn’t need to find Black Mask. At this point, Black Mask would come to him. He’d probably been watching the entire time, just waiting for the Red Hood to appear.

Though why Hood hadn’t been attacked by Black Mask down in Tricorner last night put a slight flaw in that line of thought. Perhaps Jason hadn’t gone as Red Hood like Tim thought. Jason was a big man and rough around the edges; he’d fit right in with the workers at the shipyards with hardly any effort at all.

They needed to draw Black Mask out. And the Red Hood was going to be the bait.

Tim stared blankly at his monitors, the wheels turning as he worked out a plan.

****

“That’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve ever heard,” said Jason when he came over in the early evening. He was dressed down, but had a duffle bag with him that Tim was certain contained his Red Hood gear. His fingers itched slightly to take a look, but it was rude to go through other people’s things, at least when they were watching.

“Do you have a better idea?” asked Tim, taking a bite from his BLT (give him some credit, he knew how to cook bacon).

Jason scowled, shaking his head. “No, not really. You do know this is going to get B’s attention too, right?”

Tim nodded. “That’s where I come in.”

“And do what exactly?”

“Create a convincing enough story to send him running in another direction,” he said blandly, taking another bite of his sandwich.

Jason looked at him disbelievingly. “You think you can lie to Batman?”

“Yes. I do it all the time.”

The look on Jason’s face was priceless. Tim was glad he held it long enough for him to take a picture with his phone.

Jason growled and stomped over to the counter to take a piece of bacon. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then turned around to make a BLT of his own. Returning to the kitchen table, he sat down and glared at Tim.

“So how long do you think it’ll take to set this up?”

“Depends. Do you have a flamethrower?”

“Two.”

“Cool. It’ll go faster if I help.” Tim took another bite. “I’ve never used a flamethrower before.”

Jason smirked. “I’ve never had a side-kick before, you wanna apply?”

Tim chuckled. “You really want the man Batman rejected to be your side-kick?”

“B’s fucking loss is totally my gain. I’ll even add in some extra incentives.”

“I seriously doubt you offer full medical and dental, plus a pension plan,” Tim replied blandly, finishing up his sandwich.

“Nope, I was thinking of something more entertaining.” The heat and promise in Jason’s voice and the look in his eyes made Tim shiver. 

Damn, but he never really thought Jason would be interested in him. He’d been certain Jason didn’t bat for his team (well, Tim batted for both teams really, but only Steph knew that), despite all the flirting from the last few days. Jason was charismatic, not quite on par with Dick ( _but who was?_ ), and a natural flirt. He hadn’t read too much into it. Apparently he should have.

Tim leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, giving Jason an obviously appraising look of his own. The man’s physique was impressive, the worn Henley hiding nothing. His soft jeans only showcased his thighs.

Tim smiled. “I’m open to negotiations, but know that I won’t settle for less than a full partner. I’m no one’s side-kick.”

Jason smiled back. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Detective.”

****

The plan was simple. 

Jason had tracked the black van down to Tricorner and its massive shipping yards, so chances were good Black Mask was in the area. 

The Red Hood, with Tim’s assistance, was going to start a few fires. There were always some empty warehouses along the docks in Gotham Harbor that were being used for some illegal activities. Jason was going to let himself be seen, to try and get Black Mask to come out of hiding. Tim was to be his shadow, watching his back, but more importantly, he was going to head off Batman when he would undoubtedly appear.

Neither Jason, nor Tim wanted him to be an audience for when Jason and Black Mask fought. 

Oracle also agreed to help. There was a certain degree of timing and foresight that was needed so, with her access to the CCTV cameras and other networks around the city, Tim was able override Jason’s protests. “My plan, not yours. Unless you come up with something that replaces Oracle, then I’m all ears.”

Jason just glared and left to get his flamethrowers. 

Tim freely admitted to himself the plan had issues. First and foremost, arson. Secondly, he was aiding and abetting a known murderer and vigilante (for some reason, the fact this was number two on his list of issues troubled Tim, but he didn’t have time to look at that too closely). Third, he was aiding and abetting a known murderer and vigilante in the planned killing of another well-known criminal. This made him an accessory to murder (still, the fact arson was the number one issue on his list troubled him; perhaps it was alphabetical order?).

If this plan went to hell, he could kiss his career good-bye.

But then again…flamethrower. Tim grinned widely. This was the second warehouse he and Jason had set ablaze. He’d never felt a rush like this before. 

Several yards away, the Red Hood was lighting up his side of the building. Tim may not have been able to see his face, but he could tell Hood was enjoying himself just as much as he was. 

He took a few steps further back, raining liquid fire on the ground he had been standing on before cutting the fuel line to the flame nozzle. He may get to play with the fun toys tonight, but he also had a job to do. Unstrapping the fuel tank, he set the flamethrower by the door and ran outside, hugging the shadows. Hood would pick up the gear on his way out.

Tim tapped the comm link in his ear. “Oracle, have you seen anything?”

“Nothing yet, Detective. The fire department just arrived at the first warehouse. Batman hasn’t hailed yet, but his tracker indicates he’s heading south towards Tricorner and fast.”

“Joy of joys, looks like I get to play my part sooner than later. What’s his twenty?” He shot the grappler Hood lent him and pulled himself to the top of the warehouse across the street. Tim felt a bit ludicrous using the thing, but he could admit it came in handy sometimes.

“10 to the first fire, 13 if he heads to the second.”

“That should be enough time for a third.” Tim pulled out a pair of binoculars and started looking around. He could still use the night vision function, the flames from the fire across the way weren’t visible from outside yet.

“You’re having way too much fun with this. I think you’re just as much an adrenaline junkie as the others,” Oracle observed dryly. 

“Probably,” Tim chuckled. “I like to think I hide it better.”

“Keep telling yourself that, nerd wonder. Hood have a third target in mind?”

“Yeah, four down from this one. No more fire for me, I’m on deflection duty.” A note of disappointment colored Tim’s voice.

“Those things are a trip. It’s been awhile since I got to use one,” Oracle laughed.

Tim saw movement down below. Red Hood had emerged from the warehouse and was making a show of lighting up the doorway. “Hood’s out. He’s certainly not being subtle.”

“I thought that was the point of this ridiculous plan of yours.”

“Hey, I didn’t hear any new ideas from you when I called earlier.”

Oracle sighed. “No, you’re doing the best you can with what you got. I think I’m still in shock over you and Jason working together.” The disbelief was very much evident, even through the comm.

“You and me both. If you’d told me last week I’d be burning down buildings with Red Hood, I’d have laughed in your face.” Tim chuckled wryly. He could see flickers of white in the night vision binoculars, so he switched over to regular vision.

“I still want the whole story. You’re coming over for lunch tomorrow even if I have to send Dad to come get you.”

“Gee, you’re not pulling punches tonight are you?”

“When one has a police commissioner to throw…”

“No worries, I’ll be there. Not sure how awake I’ll be, but I’ll be there.”

“Come over about one…Hey, I got something on camera and it’s not the Batmobile.” Oracle switched from banter to business in nothing flat.

“Where’s it coming from?” Down below, Red Hood had started walking towards the next warehouse. Tim started following from above and keeping low. 

“Going south of Wharf Drive. A big black van just blew through the light where it crosses Drexler. ETA is five.”

“And we’ve got Batman in five. Impeccable timing here.” Tim snarked as he made the jump from one building to the next. He felt a momentary sense of pride as he nailed the landing. Too bad Damian wasn’t there to see it.

“B’s heading to the first fire. There’s been nothing on the channels about this one. You cut the alarms?”

Tim grimaced. “Yeah. Hang on a sec.” He tapped his comm over to another channel. “Hey Hood, we got incoming. Five minutes.”

“Yeah? That was fast. Which B are we looking at?” Hood sounded amused for some reason.

“Hopefully Black Mask. O just picked up a black van driving like a maniac heading in this direction. Going south on Wharf. But the big B is also on his way.”

“Good, looking forward to some action tonight. This is gonna be fun.” Hood was clearly enjoying himself. Tim couldn’t blame him. After almost a week of dead-ends, they were finally going to get closure tonight. 

“You have a very strange idea of fun.”

“So’s your face.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Tim paused a moment to look behind him and swore. “Fuck, Batman’s three buildings down.”

“Shit. You’re on, stalker. Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” replied Tim as he started running faster. He tapped back over to Oracle. “B’s three buildings behind me, I thought I had more time?!” he shouted.

“The tracker’s in the car. You going to leave this line open?” she replied calmly.

“Sure, whatever,” he huffed, making another jump and almost missing the next roof entirely. He flailed his arms for a moment to catch his balance, losing precious seconds he didn’t have. 

Tim kept running. He was the distraction for Batman. His job was to keep the Bat away from Red Hood long enough so that Black Mask would come out into the open so Hood would kill him. Neat. Simple. 

Tim’s lungs were starting to burn as he made the jump to the next warehouse. He wasn’t as lucky as last time and missed the landing, sliding down to catch the edge of the roof with his gloved hands. The wrench on his arms was painful as he slammed into the side of the building. He pulled himself up, hauling his lean body up and over the edge of the roof. 

His feet were barely under him again when a powerful blow knocked Tim flat. He rolled with it, but he started slipping to the edge of the roof again. As he reached the edge, a black boot landed square in his line of sight and a strong grip grasped his wrist. 

Tim slammed against the side of the building again, his wrist burning in pain. It was sprained at the very least.

“Who are you and what are you doing, setting these fires?” a voice growled from above. 

Tim was confused for a second. Then he remembered he was wearing a ski mask and domino given to him by Jason. He grinned. 

“Just having a bit of fun. Never got to use a flamethrower before tonight.” He knew the lighthearted tone would annoy Batman. 

Batman’s response was to shake him, just hard enough to slam him into the side of the building again and jar his wrist some more. Pain flared down his entire arm now.

“Where did you find a flamethrower powerful enough to set fire to two buildings?”

Tim wheezed for a moment. More than just his arm was starting to hurt. “Found it. Thought why the fuck not.”

He was slammed again against the side of the building, then dragged up and over the edge. Batman let him go and Tim dropped unceremoniously to his knees, the aluminum roof jarring him more. He was so going to have to see Dr. Thompkins later.

Head drooping, Tim tried to catch his breath when he felt his head being yanked back up. Batman was taking off the ski mask. The mask gone, Tim's head dropped back down, but Batman pulled his head back up by his hair so he could see his face.

Tim glared defiantly up at Batman. The domino was still on, so the effect was slightly lost, but he’d stared down Batman before without it. 

Batman’s breath caught when he realized just _who_ he'd been body slamming into the side of warehouse. He let go abruptly and took a step back. “Tim…”

Tim stood up slowly, his knees shaking a bit. “Bruce.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying a new gig.” He purposefully kept the flippant tone from earlier.

Batman didn’t reply, giving Tim the silent treatment, trying to intimidate him. The looming and the glare, the cape and the cowl, they only worked on people because they feared Batman. Tim wasn’t afraid, never had been. Batman hadn’t intimidated him for a long time either. 

The longer he waited, the more time Jason had to draw out Black Mask. He hoped the van Oracle told him about was him, rushing in without thinking, without planning. Right into their trap.

The silence dragged on, neither man standing down. Batman broke the silence first, apparently realizing his normal tactics weren’t working on Tim. “You’re a good cop, Tim. You’re going to be one of the best this town has ever seen. Why throw everything away to light a few fires?”

Tim shrugged. “The last week has been pretty rough. Needed to find a new way to let off some steam.” He gave a cocky grin. He’d seen plenty of them on Jason the last few days. He paid attention. 

“Tim,” Batman started to say, then stopped. He appeared to be struggling for words. He continued. “You know I’m going to have to bring you in. I - - I don’t want to, but I have to.”

Oracle chose that moment to interrupt. “Black Mask just intercepted Red Hood. They’re in the warehouse two down from your current location. Looks like Hood managed to get his fire started.”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Oracle wasn’t expecting him to. Instead he continued his level gaze up at Batman. “Just like you always want to turn in Jason? You never do though. You’ve caught him so many times, but he’s never been brought to justice by you.”

“I…That’s different.”

“How is it different? The Red Hood is a known murderer, albeit one who only kills those who slip through the wide cracks in the system. Admit it, you can’t turn him in because he’s your son.” _And I’m not_. Batman flinched, then steeled himself again and clenched a gloved fist.

Tim knew he was balancing a fine line here, calling Batman out about his actions towards Jason at the expense of pushing him to the point where he would capture Tim and take him over to Central himself. 

He was willing to take that chance.

“So what’s it going to be? You going to arrest one of the few honest cops in this city? One who decided to go pyro for a night? There wasn’t anything in those warehouses, I checked. What’s a little property damage? Things go _boom_ practically once a month around here.”

It was hard to tell what Batman was thinking under the cowl. Dick always swore he could, but Tim hadn’t been around long enough to learn the skill. He was only ever on the periphery, picking up pieces here and there. He’d been welcomed into Bruce’s family, but not Batman’s. A fine distinction if ever there was one. 

“Tim,” Batman started to say again, but he was silenced by the sound of a gunshot cracking through the night air, followed quickly by another. Both men turned in the direction of the sound. Two warehouses over, smoke could be seen rising.

“I’m pretty certain Jason just won.” Tim grinned broadly.

Batman whirled around to face Tim. “Jason? What is he doing here?”

“I’ve been helping him search for Black Mask. I contacted him right after Tyler’s body was found and figured out it was a message to him.”

“Dammit, Tim! Why the hell did you tell him? You know he’s going to kill Black Mask for killing those kids!” Batman shouted.

“I do,” said Tim quietly. “You ever make it over to the morgue to see Tyler? Or Isaac? Or did you just hack the GCPD servers to view the forensics photos from the scene? Bruce, these kids were fucking tortured. I was willing use every tool I have available to make sure this didn’t happen again. Arkham has enough revolving door inmates.” 

The dig was intentional.

“So the Red Hood is a tool for you to use?”

“You’re the one that taught me we’re all tools for the greater good.”

Batman stared at Tim for a moment longer, then shot out his grapple line and swung away. Tim let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and sat down heavily, legs dangling off the side of the building. “Oracle?” he asked shakily.

“Wow. You really weren’t pulling punches there, were you?” she replied. “I hacked Jason’s helmet-cam. Black Mask is dead. Two rounds in the head. I’m going to be seeing that for a while when I close my eyes, thank you very much.”

Tim sighed. “Sorry. Jason?”

“Batman’s rescuing him right now. The fight got pretty heated, and the fire spread fast. From the amount of cursing on Jason’s end, I think he’s got a broken leg.”

Tim huffed a tired laugh. “He’ll be okay then. If he’s able to curse out Batman, he can’t be too bad.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I think Jason’s able to curse Batman even in a coma. Black Mask had a small army come tumbling out of that van with him. Jason’s got some pretty serious wounds. B just called the car around, so I’m guessing he’s taking him to the Cave or to Leslie’s.”

“Damn,” said Tim, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. Jason knew the risks, just like he did, but it didn’t make it any easier hearing about the former Robin’s injuries.

He opened his eyes, looking at the sky. It was getting hazy from the smoke, the breeze from the ocean not doing much to clear the air. He heard sirens in the distance. Fire crews were coming. There would be police too, what with three warehouse fires on the same street in a single night. One with the dead body of one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals.

Tim got up slowly, carefully, his body aching in ways he’d never felt before. He snagged the ski mask he’d been wearing earlier and put it back on. He took one last look at across the street at the warehouse and saw Batman carrying Red Hood out to the waiting Batmobile.

If he rappelled down to the street, would Batman let him join them? Or would he turn away and leave him there, just like he’d done over 10 years ago? Tim waited and watched, letting the moment pass as the massive car roared away with two of the most important people in Tim’s world.

Tim’s world. He huffed a laugh. His world consisted of his work. He dedicated himself to Gotham the way Batman did. He chose to walk in the light of day and work within the boundaries of the law. 

Batman had drawn the line in the sand for him years ago. He’d toe it occasionally, but never crossed it until now. Tim had a taste of it thanks to Jason. But now that he had that taste, did he want more?

Tim shook his head, clearing it to focus on his descent from the rooftop. Tim Drake wasn’t a part of that world. 

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue to go, which I'll post in a few days.


	7. Chapter 7

“A hit and run? Really?” Malloy gave Tim the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen on the other man’s face. And he’d seen quite a few in the few months they’d been working together.

“Really,” Tim replied, waving his cast around and wincing as pain shot up his arm.

Malloy raised an eyebrow. “Dumbass. Stop trying to hurt yourself more.” He handed Tim the lunch bag and coffee he’d brought with him. Tim tore into it hungrily, going for the sandwich first, much to Malloy’s surprise.

After making his way back to his car the previous night and ditching his smoky clothes and masks in the trunk, Tim took himself to Dr. Thompkin’s clinic. He knew she wouldn’t be there, but her staff were great and knew not to ask a lot of questions.

He’d come away from his adventure with a severely sprained wrist, several bruised ribs, and a shoulder that had almost been dislocated. Not to mention all the bruises. 

“I feel like one big bruise right now,” he said around a mouthful of turkey, bacon, and avocado. Yum, Malloy had gone to the diner for one of his favorite sandwiches.

“You look like one big bruise. You’re totally rocking the purple look. It’s gonna look great when it turns that yellowy-green.” Malloy sat down in Tim’s armchair and gave him a serious look. “All joking aside, you have any idea who did this?”

Tim took a moment to chew. “No. It was dark, the streetlights were out, as usual. I was just walking home. I saw the headlights, them wham.” He settled back on his sofa and soft pillows and took another bite.

“You’re lucky the moron just clipped you.”

“I know,” replied Tim, thinking back to the repeated slams his body took when Batman was swinging him around like a ragdoll.

“Well, looks like you’re off duty for at least a week, then nothing but desk work until your wrist is fully healed.” Malloy shook his head ruefully. “Here I am always telling you to take a day off or take a vacation, then you go and get a week of sick leave. Nice going, Rookie.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim replied, saluting Malloy with his coffee. They both started laughing.

****

Later that evening, Tim got another knock on his door. Visitors were just crawling out of the woodwork today.

It was Dick. “What are you doing here?” Tim asked with a confused look.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m checking up on my favorite Detective. Heard you got involved in a…hit and run.” Dick smiled wryly. 

Tim gestured for him to come in. Dick entered and walked straight to the kitchen and setting down the big grocery bags he’d been carrying. Tim followed and leaned against his counter. “Alfred?”

“Alfred,” Dick confirmed. “I’ve got enough frozen food here to last you a week, as well as a list of instructions on how to reheat it.” He took a piece of paper out of one of the bags and grabbed a magnet to stick it on Tim’s fridge.

“He didn’t have to do that,” said Tim as he watched Dick fill his mostly empty freezer. 

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to come to the Manor and let him take care of you. Jason’s pretty out of it right now, so he stress cooked for you instead.”

Tim lowered his gaze. “How is Jason?” he asked.

“He’s going to be fine. Out of commission for a while though. Leslie had to pin his femur back together. One of the support beams apparently fell on him while he was down. Gave him a compound fracture. When he wakes up, he’s not going to take kindly to being in traction for the next 8-10 weeks.”

Tim grimaced. That was not how he wanted last night to end. There was always the chance of them getting hurt though. It was an acceptable risk. But still, traction…

Dick continued. “So I heard part of last night’s story from Bruce. I’m not sure exactly what you said to him, but he’s pretty torn up over what he did to you.” He leveled an expectant gaze at Tim as he took a six-pack of Tim’s favorite craft beer from the last bag. “I’m not leaving until you spill, Detective Timmy.”

“That better be cold,” he said as he lurched away from the counter and back to his nest on the sofa.

****

There was a reason why Dick was everyone’s favorite. He was genuinely a good person. A great leader. A role model. He was the big brother Tim always wanted and almost had. Dick didn’t care though that Tim never became fully a part of his family. As far as he was concerned, as he had repeatedly told Tim over the years, Tim was his little brother and that was that.

Tim told him everything. Well, just about everything. He didn’t need to know about his “little brothers” flirting with each other. 

“It just came out, Dick,” said Tim as he took another swig from his beer. It was his third. “I didn’t know what I was going to say to Bruce until I said it. I don’t regret it though. It’s true. We’re all his tools.”

Dick sighed, fumbling with the wrapper on his bottle. Tim was pretty certain it was still his first one. “I know. It’s one thing to know it and another thing to say it. I think…it needed to be said.” He took a drink.

Tim looked morosely at his bottle for a moment. “If I’d pushed harder, back in the beginning, do you think he’d have let me be Robin?”

Dick looked at Tim directly, those blue eyes never wavering. “I don’t know. But, for what it’s worth, I think you’d have been a great Robin, Timmy.” 

“Thanks.”

“So, are you going to do it?”

“Do what?” asked Tim in confusion.

“Partner up with Jason. It’d be good for him, I think. You’ve proven you can work well together. You have no idea just how rare it is for him to work with a partner, let alone so well with someone. The closest he ever comes is with Steph and I swear that’s because she can knock him on his ass with that right hook of hers.”

They both chuckled at that. Steph’s right hook was legendary. 

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know. When he asked…in the moment it felt like a good idea. But now, thinking about it, about all I’d have to give up, about all I’ve worked so hard for, I just… I don’t know.”

Dick nodded. He knew just how hard Tim had worked over the years to become the youngest detective on the GCPD. He’d excelled at the police academy, then on the streets as an officer. He went to night school and took online classes just to get his bachelor’s degree in criminal justice so that he could qualify to take the detective’s exams. 

It would be hard to give that up. But Tim knew, deep in his heart, that if it were Jason sitting with him drinking beer and asking him to be his partner, he’d say yes. 

“You said Jason’s going to be in traction for a couple months?”

Dick nodded again. “At least. Not to mention physical therapy. He’s going to be a peach to be around for a while. Thinking of coming to visit? Alfred would love to see you. Even lil’ D, but he’d never admit it.” He paused. “So would Bruce.”

“Thanks. I – I’ve got a lot to think about. Perhaps I’ll be by soon, but…” Tim trailed off. They both knew he wouldn’t.

“You’ve been through a lot this last week. Take the time you need to heal.” Dick reached over and tapped Tim on his shoulder. “Here. And here,” he finished, tapping Tim on the head.

“I’ve got to go,” Dick said, getting up and stretching. Tim watched, just enjoying the way Dick Grayson moved. Always so graceful. “Oh, before I do, Babs wanted me to remind you that you owe her lunch. Something about a ‘hit and run’ only being a viable excuse once.” He grinned at Tim.

“I hadn’t forgotten. I’ll text her later and see if she’s free tomorrow or the day after.” Tim shifted and felt a twinge go up his side. Grimacing, he said “More likely the day after.”

Dick ruffled Tim’s dark hair fondly. “Just don’t go pulling those smooth moves of yours on my girlfriend. You need anything before I head out? I think I saw pain pills in the kitchen earlier.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “What smooth moves? If I had any moves, Steph and I’d still be together and we wouldn’t have the wonderful story about me, her, and a brick.”

Dick laughed. “True!” He walked to the kitchen and snagged Tim’s pill bottle and a bottle of water from the fridge. “Do me a favor and drink the whole thing when you’re done with that beer. The pills are optional.”

“Deal,” said Tim, taking the water bottle and setting it in his blankets against his skin. The cool bottle felt great on his bruises.

“Take care of yourself, Timmy. I’ll see you soon.” Dick turned and went to Tim’s living room window. 

“Good night, Dick.”

****

A week later, Tim sat at his desk at the precinct, going through his files. Malloy had taken care of all his notes from the Burner murders (and wow, had that lit up a media shitstorm). 

He purposefully didn’t go looking into the warehouse fires from last week. Over lunch with Babs’, he’d learned there were four bodies found that night. One was identified as Roman Sionis, the Black Mask. The other three men were hired thugs. The ME came back saying the cause of death for those three was smoke inhalation, which led both Tim and Barbara to thinking it was accidental after the Red Hood knocked them out.

The media was having a field day speculating about the rivalry between Black Mask and Red Hood, even a week later. Tim only had one question left. What had made Black Mask so mad at Red Hood that he’d waited years to try and get revenge?

Tim was certain Jason knew. But he’d never said and Tim never asked. 

He wasn’t sure he ever would. One thing he was certain of though was that he was very glad a man like Black Mask was dead. He’d never torture anyone again. 

Tim fervently hoped he was burning in hell.

A large pile of folders was suddenly dropped on his desk, startling Tim from his thoughts. He looked up to see Sandy, the office assistant, smiling at him. “Captain says you’re on cold case duty for the next week.” She gestured at the folders. 

Tim chuckled and shot her a smile. “Sounds good. Let’s see what trouble I can get into with these.” 

He took the top folder from the stack and started reading.

\--The End--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end, not really. But it is the end of this particular story arc. I'm making this into a series. I've got a one shot all read to go and a much longer chapter story in the works. I'm the type though who won't post a series until it's done, so you readers may have to wait a bit for it as it's looking like a doozy. 
> 
> Until next time! :)


End file.
